University  of  California  •  Berkeley 

Purchased  from 

ALEXANDER  GOLDSTEIN 

MEMORIAL  FUND 


WALT     WHITMAN'S 


DRUM-TAPS 


New- York. 
1865. 


ENTERED  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1865,  by  WALT 
WHITMAN,  in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  United  States  District  Court  of 
the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


PACK 

Drum-Taps 5 

Shut  not  your  doors  to  me  proud  Libraries 8 

Cavalry    crossing    a  ford 8 

Song  of  the  Banner  at  Day-Break 9 

By  the  bivouac's  fitful  flame 16 

1861 17 

From  Paumanok  starting  I  fly  like  a  bird 18 

Beginning  my  studies 18 

The  Centenarian's  Story 19 

Pioneers  !  O  Pioneers  1 25 

Quicksand  years  that  whirl  me  I  know  not  whither 30 

The  Dresser 31 

When  I  heard  the  learn'd  Astronomer 34 

Rise  O  Days  from  your  fathomless  deeps. 35 

A  child's  amaze 37 

Beat  I    beat!   drums  1 38 

Come  up  from  the  fields,  father 39 

City  of  ships 41 

Mother  and  babe 41 

Vigil  strange  I  kept  on  the  field  one  night 42 

Bathed  in  war's  perfume 43 

A  march  in  the  ranks  hard-prest,  and  the  road  unknown 44 

Long,  too  long,  O  land 45 

A  sight  in  camp  in  the  day-break  grey  and  dim 46 

A  farm  picture 46 

Give  me  the  splendid  silent  sun 47 

Over  the  carnage  rose  prophetic  a  voice 49 

Did  you  ask  dulcet  rhymes  from  me  ? 50 

Year  of  meteors 51 

The  Torch 52 

Years  of  the  unperform'd 53 

Year  that  trembled  and  reel'd  beneath  me 54 

The  Veteran's  vision  65 

O  tan-faced  Prairio-boy 56 


v  CONTENTS. 

Camps  of  green 57 

As  toilsome  I  wander'd  Virginia's  woods 58 

Uymn  of  dead  soldiers £9 

The  ship CO 

A  Broadway  pageant 61 

Flag  of  stars,  thick-sprinkled  bunting 65 

Old  Ireland 66 

Look  down   fair  moon  , 66 

Out  of  the  rolling  ocean,  the  crowd (57 

World,  take  good  notice 07 

I  saw  old  General  at  bay 68 

Others  may  praise  what  they  like 68 

Solid,  ironical,  rolling  orb 68 

Hush'd  be  the  camps  to-day 69 

Weave  in,  weave  in,  my  hardy  soul 69 

Turn,  O  Libertad 70 

Bivouac  on  a  mountain  Bide « 70 

Pensive  on  her  dead  gazing,  I  heard  the  mother  of  all 71 

Not  youth  pertains  to  me 72 


DRUM -TAPS. 


i    FIRST,  O  songs,  for  a  prelude, 

Lightly  strike  on  the  stretch' d  tympanum,  pride  and  joy 
in  my  city, 

How  she  led  the  rest  to  arms  —  how  she  gave  the  cue, 

How  at  once  with  lithe  limbs,  unwaiting  a  moment,  she 
sprang  ; 

(O  superb !  O  Manhattan,  my  own,  my  peerless ! 

O  strongest  you  in  the  hour  of  danger,  in  crisis !  O 
truer  than  steel!) 

How  you  sprang !  how  you  threw  off  the  costumes  of 
peace  with  indifferent  hand ; 

How  your  soft  opera-music  changed,  and  the  drum  and 
fife  were  heard  in  their  stead ; 

How  you  led  to  the  war,  (that  shall  serve  for  our  pre- 
lude, songs  of  soldiers,) 

How  Manhattan  drum-taps  led. 

»    Forty  years  had  I  in  my  city  seen  soldiers  parading ; 
Forty  years  as  a  pageant  —  till  unawares,  the  Lady  of 

this  teeming  and  turbulent  city, 
Sleepless,  amid  her  ships,  her  houses,  her  incalculable 

wealth, 

With  her  million  children  around  her  —  suddenly, 
At  dead  of  night,  at  news  from  the  south, 
Incens'd,  struck  with  clench' d  hand  the  pavement. 

s    A  shock  electric  —  the  night  sustain' d  it ; 
Till  with  ominous  hum,  our  hive  at  day -break,  pour'd 
out  its  myriads. 

A*  (5) 


0  DRUM-TAPS. 

*    From   the   houses   then,    and    the     workshops,    and 

through  all  the  doorways, 
Leapt  they  tumultuous  —  and  lo  !  Manhattan  arming. 

5    To  the  drum-taps  prompt, 

The  young  men  falling  in  and  arming ; 

The  mechanics  arming,  (the  trowel,  the  jack-plane,  the 

blacksmith's   hammer,    tost   aside   with   precipi- 
tation;) 
The  lawyer  leaving  his  office,  and  arming  —  the  judge 

leaving  the  court ; 
The  driver  deserting  his  wagon  in  the  street,  jumping 

down,  throwing  the  reins  abruptly  down  on  the 

horses'  backs; 
The  salesman  leaving  the  store  —  the  boss,  book-keeper, 

porter,  all  leaving ; 
Squads  gathering  everywhere  by  common  consent,  and 

arming ; 
The  new  recruits,  even  boys  —  the  old  men  show  them 

how  to  wear  their  accoutrements  —  they  buckle 

the  straps  carefully ; 
Outdoors  arming  —  indoori  arming  —  the  flash  of  the 

musket-barrels ; 
The  white  tents  cluster  in  camps  —  the  arm'd  sentries 

around — the  sunrise  cannon,  and  again  at  sunset ; 
Arm'd   regiments  arrive  eveiy  day,   pass  through  the 

city,  and  embark  from  the  wharves ; 
(How  good  they  look,  as  they  tramp  down  to  the  river, 

sweaty,  with  their  guns  on  their  shoulders ! 
How  I  love  them !   how  I  could  hug  them,  with  their 

brown  faces,  and  their  clothes  and  knapsacks  cov- 
er'd  with  dust!) 
The   blood   of  the   city    up  —  arm'd!  arm'd!  the   cry 

everywhere ; 
The  flags  flung  out  from  the  steeples  of  churches,  and 

from  all  the  public  buildings  and  stores ; 
The  tearful  parting  —  the  mother  kisses  her  son  —  the 

son  kisses  his  mother ; 
(Loth  is  the  mother  to  part  —  yet  not  a  word  does  ishe 

speak  to  detain  him;) 


DRUM-TAPS.  7 

The  tumultuous  escort  —  the  ranks  of  policemen  preced- 
ing, clearing  the  way ; 

The  unpent  enthusiasm  —  the  wild  cheers  of  the  crowd 
for  their  favorites ; 

The  artillery  —  the  silent  cannons,  bright  as  gold,  drawn 
along,  rumble  lightly  over  the  stones ; 

(Silent  cannons  —  soon  to  cease  your  silence ! 

Soon,  unlimber'd,  to  begin  the  red  business;) 

All  the  mutter  of  preparation  —  all  the  determin'd 
arming ; 

The  hospital  service  —  the  lint,  bandages,  and  medi- 
cines ; 

The  women  volunteering  for  nurses  —  the  work  begun 
for,  in  earnest  —  no  mere  parade  now ; 

War!  an  arm'd  race  is  advancing! — the  welcome  for 
battle  —  no  turning  away ; 

War!  be  it  weeks,  months,  or  years  —  an  arm'd  race  is 
advancing  to  welcome  it. 

«    Mannahatta  a-march !  —  and  it's  O  to  sing  it  well ! 
It's  O  for  a  manly  life  in  the  camp ! 

7    And  the  sturdy  artillery ! 

The  guns,   bright  as  gold  —  the  work  for  giants  —  to 

serve  well  the  guns : 
Unlimber  them !  no  more,  as  the  past  forty  years,   for 

salutes  for  courtesies  merely ; 
Put  in  something  else  now  besides  powder  and  wadding. 

s    And  you,  Lady  of  Ships !  you  Mannahatta ! 

Old  matron  of  the  city !  this  proud,  friendly,  turbulent 

city ! 
Often  in  peace  and  wealth  you  were  pensive,  or  covertly 

frown' d  amid  all  your  children  ; 
But  now  you  smile  with  joy,  exulting  old  Mannahatta ! 


DRUM-TAPS. 

SHUT   NOT   YOUR   DOORS   TO  ME 
PROUD    LIBRARIES. 


SHUT  not  your  doors  to  me,  proud  libraries. 

For  that  which  was  lacking  among  you  all,  yet  needed 
most,  I  bring ; 

A  book  I  have  made  for  your  dear  sake,  O  soldiers, 

And  for  you,  O  soul  of  man,  and  you,  love  of  comrades  ; 

The  words  of  my  book  nothing,  the  life  of  it  every- 
thing ; 

A  book  separate,  not  link'd  with  the  rest,  nor  felt  by 
the  intellect; 

But  you  will  feel  every  word,  O  Libertad !  arm'd 
Libertad ! 

It  shall  pass  by  the  intellect  to  swim  the  sea,  the  air, 

With  joy  with  you,  O  soul  of  man. 


CAVALRY   CROSSING  A  FORD. 


A  LINE  in  long  array,  where  they  wind  betwixt  green 

islands ; 
They  take  a  serpentine  course  —  their  arms  flash  in  the 

sun  —  Hark  to  the  musical  clank  ; 
Behold  the  silvery  river  —  in  it  the  splashing  horses, 

loitering,  stop  to  drink  ; 
Behold  the  brown-faced  men  —  each  group,  each  person, 

a  picture  —  the  negligent  rest  on  the  saddles  ; 
Some  emerge  on  the  opposite  bank  —  others  are  just 

entering  the  ford ; 
The  guidon  flags  flutter  gaily  in  the  wind. 


SONG 


OF 


THE  BANNER  AT  DAY-BREAK. 


POET. 

1  O  A  new  song,  a  free  song, 

Flapping,   flapping,   flapping,   flapping,  by  sounds,   by 

voices  clearer, 

By  the  wind's  voice  and  that  of  the  drum, 
By  the  banner's  voice,  and  child's  voice,  and  sea's  voice, 

and  father's  voice, 

Low  on  the  ground  and  high  in  the  air, 
On  the  ground  where  father  and  child  stand, 
In  the  upward  air  where  their  eyes  turn, 
Where  the  banner  at  day-break  is  flapping. 

2  Words !  book- words !  what  are  you  ? 
Words  no  more,  for  hearken  and  see, 

My  song  is  there  in  the  open  air  —  and  I  must  sing, 
With  the  banner  and  pennant  a-flapping. 

a    I'll  weave  the  chord  and  twine  in, 

Man's  desire  and  babe's  desire  —  I'll  twine  them  in,  I'll 

put  in  life  ; 
I'll  put  the  bayonet's  flashing  point  —  I'll  let  bullets  and 

slugs  whizz ; 
1 11  pour  the  verse  with  streams  of  blood,  full  of  volition, 

full  of  joy ; 

Then  loosen,  launch  forth,  to  go  and  compete, 
With  the  banner  and  pennant  a-flapping.     . 


1 1  DRUM-TAPS. 

BANNER  AND  PENNANT. 

*    Come  up  here,  bard,  bard ; 
Come  up  here,  soul,  soul ; 
Come  up  here,  dear  little  child, 

To  fly  in  the  clouds  and  winds  with  us,  and  play  with 
the  measureless  light. 

CHILD. 

5   Father,  what  is  that  in  the  sky  beckoning  to  me  with 

long  finger  ? 
And  what  does  it  say  to  me  all  the  while '? 

FATHER. 

e    Nothing,  my  babe,  you  see  in  the  sky ; 

And  nothing  at  all  to  you  it  says.     But  look  you,  my 

babe, 
Look  at  these  dazzling  things  in  the  houses,  and  see  you 

the  money-shops  opening ; 
And  see  you  the  vehicles  preparing  to  crawl  along  the 

streets  with  goods : 

These !  ah,  these !  how  valued  and  toil'd  for,  these ! 
How  envied  by  all  the  earth ! 

POET. 

7    Fresh  and  rosy  red,  the  sun  is  mounting  high ; 

On  floats  the  sea  in  distant  blue,  careering  through  its 

channels ; 
On  floats  the  wind  over  the  breast  of  the  sea,  setting  in 

toward  land ; 

The  great  steady  wind  from  west  and  west-by-south, 
Floating  so  buoyant,  with  milk-white  foam  on  the  waters. 

s  But  I  am  not  the  sea,  nor  the  red  sun  ; 
I  am  not  the  wind,  with  girlish  laughter ; 
Not  the  immense  wind  which  strengthens  —  not  the 

wind  which  lashes ; 
Not  the  spirit  that  ever  lashes  its  own  body  to  terror  and 

death : 


BANNER  AT  DAY-BREAK.  11 

But  I  am  of  that  which  unseen  comes  and  sings,  sings, 

sings, 
Which  babbles  in  brooks  and  scoots  in  showers  on  the 

land; 
Which   the  birds  know  in  the  woods,   mornings  and 

evenings, 
And  the  shore-sands  know,  and  the  hissing  wave,  and 

that  banner  and  pennant, 
Aloft  there  napping  and  flapping. 

CHILD. 

9  O  father,  it  is  alive  —  it  is  full  of  people  —  it  has 
children ! 

0  now  it  seems  to  me  it  is  talking  to  its  children ! 

1  hear  it  —  it  talks  to  me  —  O  it  is  wonderful ! 

O  it  stretches  —  it  spreads  and  runs  so  fast!     O  my 

father, 
It  is  so  broad,  it  covers  the  whole  sky ! 

FATHER. 

i '    Cease,  cease,  my  foolish  babe, 

What  you  are  saying  is  sorrowful  to  me  —  much  it  dis- 
pleases me ; 

Behold  with  the  rest,  again  I  say  —  behold  not  banners 
and  pennants  aloft ; 

But  the  well-prepared  pavements  behold  —  and  mark 
the  solid-wall' d  houses. 

BANNER  AND  PENNANT. 

"    Speak  to  the  child,  O  bard,  out  of  Manhattan ; 

Speak  to  our  children  all,  or  north  or  south  of  Manhat- 
tan, 

Where  our  factory-engines  hum,  where  our  miners 
delve  the  ground, 

Where  our  hoarse  Niagara  rumbles,  where  our  prairie- 
plows  are  plowing ; 

Speak,  O  bard !  point  this  day,  leaving  all  the  rest,  to 
us  over  all  —  and  yet  we  know  not  why ; 

For  what  are  we,  mere  strips  of  cloth,  profiting  nothing, 

Only  flapping  in  the  wind  ? 


12  DRUM-TAPS. 

POET. 

12    I  hear  and  see  not  strips  of  cloth  alone ; 

I  hear  the  tramp  of  armies,  I  hear  the  challenging 
sentry ; 

I  hear  the  jubilant  shouts  of  millions  of  men  —  I  hear 
LIBERTY ! 

I  hear  the  drums  beat,  and  the  trumpets  blowing ; 

I  myself  move  abroad,  swift-rising,  flying  then  ; 

I  use  the  wings  of  the  land-bird,  and  use  the  wings  of 
the  sea-bird,  and  look  down  as  from  a  height  ; 

I  do  not  deny  the  precious  results  of  peace  —  I  see  pop- 
ulous cities,  with  wealth  incalculable  ; 

I  see  numberless  farms  —  I  see  the  farmers  working  in 
their  fields  or  barns  ; 

I  see  mechanics  working  —  I  see  buildings  everywhere 
founded,  going  up,  or  finish' d ; 

I  see  trains  of  cars  swiftly  speeding  along  railroad 
tracks,  drawn  by  the  locomotives  ; 

I  see  the  stores,  depots,  of  Boston,  Baltimore,  Charles- 
ton, New  Orleans ; 

I  see  far  in  the  west  the  immense  area  of  grain  —  I 
dwell  awhile,  hovering ; 

I  pass  to  the  lumber  forests  of  the  north,  and  again 
to  the  southern  plantation,  and  again  to  Cali- 
fornia ; 

Sweeping  the  whole,  I  see  the  countless  profit,  the 
busy  gatherings,  earned  wages  ; 

See  the  identity  formed  out  of  thirty-six  spacious  and 
haughty  States,  (and  many  more  to  come  ; ) 

See  forts  on  the  shores  of  harbors  —  see  ships  sailing  in 
and  out ; 

Then  over  all,  (aye  !  aye  !)  my  little  and  lengthen' d  pen- 
nant shaped  like  a  sword, 

Runs  swiftly  up,  indicating  war  and  defiance — And  now 
the  halyards  have  rais'd  it, 

Side  of  my  banner  broad  and  blue  —  side  of  my  starry 
banner, 

Discarding  peace  over  all  the  sea  and  land. 


BANNER  AT  DAY-BREAK.  13 

BANNER  AND  PENNANT. 

13    Yet  louder,    higher,    stronger,    bard!    yet    farther, 

wider  cleave ! 
No  longer  let  our  children  deem  us  riches  and  peace 

alone ; 

We  can  be  terror  and  carnage  also,  and  are  so  now ; 
Not  now  are  we  one  of  these  spacious  and  haughty 

States,  (nor  any  five,  nor  ten  ;) 
Nor  market  nor  depot  are  we,  nor  money-bank  in  the 

city; 
But  these,  and  all,  and  the  brown  and  spreading  land, 

and  the  mines  below,  are  ours  ; 
And  the  shores  of  the  sea  are  ours,  and  the  rivers  great 

and  small ; 
And  the  fields  they  moisten  are  ours,  and  the  crops  and 

the  fruits  are  ours  ; 
Bays  and  channels,  and  ships  sailing  in  and  out,  are  ours 

—  and  we  over  all, 
Over  the  area  spread  below,  the  three  millions  of  square 

miles  —  the  capitals, 
The  thirty-five  millions  of  people  —  O  bard  !  in  life  and 

death  supreme, 
We,  even  we,  from  this  day  flaunt  out  masterful,  high 

up  above, 

Not  for  the  present  alone,  for  a  thousand  years,  chant- 
ing through  you, 
This  song  to  the  soul  of  one  poor  little  child. 

CHILD. 

u    O  my  father,  I  like  not  the  houses  ; 

They  will  never  to  me  be  anything  —  nor  do  I  like 

money ; 
But  to  mount  up  there  I  would  like,  O  father  dear  -  • 

that  banner  I  like  ; 
That  pennant  I  would  be,  and  must  be. 

FATHER. 

15    Child  of  mine,  you  fill  me  with  anguish ; 
To  be  that  pennant  would  be  too  fearful ; 


1  1  DRUM-TAPS. 

Little  you  know  what  it  is  this  day,   and  henceforth 

forever ; 

It  is  to  gain  nothing,  but  risk  and  defy  everything ; 
Forward  to  stand  in  front  of  wars  —  and  O,  such  wars  ! 

—  what  have  you  to  do  with  them  ? 
With  passions  of  demons,  slaughter,  premature  death "? 

POET. 

16    Demons  and  death  then  I  sing  ; 

Put  in  all,  aye  all,  will  I  —  sword-shaped  pennant  for 

war,  and  banner  so  broad  and  blue, 
And  a  pleasure  new  and  extatic,  and  the  prattled  yearn- 
ing of  children, 
Blent   with   the   sounds  of  the  peaceful  land,  and  the 

liquid  wash  of  the  sea ; 
And  the  icy  cool  of  the  far,  far  north,   with  rustling 

cedars  and  pines ; 
And  the  whirr  of  drums,   and  the  sound  of  soldiers 

marching,  and  the  hot  sun  shining  south ; 
And  the  beach-waves  combing  over  the  beach  on  my 

eastern  shore,  and  my  western  shore  the  same  ; 
And  all  between  those  shores,   and  my  ever  running 

Mississippi,  with  bends  and  chutes ; 
And  my  Illinois  fields,  and  my  Kansas  fields,  and  my 

fields  of  Missouri ; 
The  CONTINENT  —  devoting  the  whole  identity,  without 

reserving  an  atom, 
Pour  in !  whelm  that  which  asks,  which  sings,  with  all, 

and  the  yield  of  all. 

BANNER  AND  PENNANT. 

n    Aye  all !  for  ever,  for  all ! 
From  sea  to  sea,  north  and  south,  east  and  west, 
Fusing  and  holding,  claiming,  devouring  the  whole ; 
No  more  with  tender  lip,  nor  musical  labial  sound, 
But,  out  of  the  night  emerging  for  good,  our  voice  per- 
suasive no  more, 
Croaking  like  crows  here  in  the  wind. 


BANNER  AT  DAY-BREAK.  15 

POET. 

(Finale.} 

is    My  limbs,  my  veins  dilate  ; 

The  blood  of  the  world  has  fill'd  me  full  —  my  theme  is 
clear  at  last  : 

—  Banner  so  broad,  advancing  out  of  the  night,  I  sing 

you  haughty  and  resolute  ; 

I  burst  through  where  I  waited  long,  too  long,  deafen' d 
and  blinded ; 

My  sight,  my  hearing  and  tongue,  are  come  to  me,  (a 
little  child  taught  me  ;) 

I  hear  from  above,  O  pennant  of  war,  your  ironical  call 
and  demand ; 

Insensate !  insensate !  (yet  I  at  any  rate  chant  you,)  O 
banner ! 

Not  houses  of  peace  are  you,  nor  any  nor  all  their  pros- 
perity, (if  need  be,  you  shall  have  every  one  of 
those  houses  to  destroy  them  ; 

You  thought  not  to  destroy  those  valuable  houses,  stand- 
ing fast,  full  of  comfort,  built  with  money  ; 

May  they  stand  fast,  then  ?  Not  an  hour,  unless  you, 
above  them  and  all,  stand  fast ;) 

—  O  banner !  not  money  so  precious  are  you,  nor  farm 

produce  you,  nor  the  material  good  nutriment, 
Nor  excellent  stores,  nor  landed  on  wharves  from  the 

ships ; 
Not  the  superb  ships,  with  sail-power  or  steam-power, 

fetching  and  carrying  cargoes, 
Nor  machinery,   vehicles,    trade,    nor   revenues,  —  But 

you,  as  henceforth  I  see  you, 
Running  up  out  of  the  night,  bringing  your  cluster  of 

stars,  (ever-enlarging  stars;) 
Divider  of  day-break  you,  cutting  the  air,  touch' d  by 

the  sun,  measuring  the  sky, 
(Passionately  seen  and  yearn'd  for  by  one  poor  little 

child, 
While  others  remain  busy,  or  smartly  talking,  forever 

teaching  thrift,  thrift ; ) 
O  you  up  there  !  O  pennant !   where  you  undulate  like 

a  snake,  hissing  so  curious. 


16  DRUM-TAPS. 

Out  of  reach  —  an  idea  only  —  yet  furiously  fought  for, 

risking  bloody  death  —  loved  by  me  ! 
So  loved  !    O  you  banner  leading  the  day,   with  stars 

brought  from  the  night ! 
Valueless,  object  of  eyes,  over  all  and  demanding  all  — 

O  banner  and  pennant ! 
I  too  leave  the  rest  —  great  as  it  is,  it  is  nothing  — 

houses,  machines  are  nothing  —  I  see  them  not ; 
I  see  but  you,  O  warlike  pennant !  O  banner  so  broad, 

with  stripes,  I  sing  you  only, 
Flapping  up  there  in  the  wind. 


BY  THE  BIVOUAC'S  FITFUL  FLAME. 


BY  the  bivouac's  fitful  flame, 

A  procession  winding  around  me,  solemn  and  sweet  and 

slow ;  —  but  first  I  note, 
The  tents  of  the  sleeping  army,  the  fields'  and  woods' 

dim  outline, 

The  darkness,  lit  by  spots  of  kindled  fire  —  the  silence  ; 
Like  a  phantom  far  or  near  an  occasional  figure  moving  ; 
The  shrubs  and  trees,  (as  I  left  my  eyes  they  seem  to  be 

stealthily  watching  me ;) 
While   wind    in   procession   thoughts,    O    tender    and 

wond'rous  thoughts, 
Of  life  and  death  —  of  home  and  the  past  and  loved, 

and  of  those  that  are  far  away ; 
A   solemn  and  slow  procession  there  as  I  sit  on  the 

ground, 
By  the  bivouac's  fitful  flame. 


DRUM-TAPS.  17 

1861. 


ARM'D  year !  year  of  the  struggle ! 

No  dainty  rhymes  or  sentimental  love  verses  for  you, 

terrible  year ! 

Not  you  as  some  pale  poetling,  seated  at  a  desk,  lisp- 
ing cadenzas  piano ; 
But  as  a  strong   man,   erect,   clothed  in  blue   clothes, 

advancing,  carrying  a  rifle  on  your  shoulder, 
With  well-gristled  body  arid  sunburnt  face  and  hands — 

with  a  knife  in  the  belt  at  your  side, 
As  I  heard  you  shouting  loud  —  your  sonorous  voice 

ringing  across  the  continent ; 
Your  masculine  voice,  O  year,  as  rising  amid  the  great 

cities, 
Amid  the  men  of  Manhattan  I  saw  you,  as  one  of  the 

workmen,  the  dwellers  in  Manhattan ; 
Or  with  large  steps  crossing  the  prairies  out  of  Illinois 

and  Indiana, 

Rapidly  crossing  the  West  with  springy  gait,  and  de- 
scending the  Alleghanies ; 
Or  down  from  the  great  lakes,  or  in  Pennsylvania,  or  on 

deck  along  the  Ohio  river  ; 
Or  southward  along  the  Tennessee  or  Cumberland  rivers, 

or  at  Chattanooga  on  the  mountain  top, 
Saw  I  your  gait  and  saw  I  your  sinewy  limbs,  clothed 

in  blue,  bearing  weapons,  robust  year ; 
Heard  your  determin'd  voice,  launched  forth  again  and 

again ; 
Year  that  suddenly  sang  by  the  mouths  of  the  round 

lipp'd  cannon, 
I  repeat  you,  hurrying,  crashing,  sad,  distracted  year. 


DRUM-TAPS. 

FROM  PAUMANOK  STARTING   I   FLY 

LIKE    A     BIRD. 


FROM  Paumanok  starting,  I  fly  like  a  bird, 

Around  and  around  to  soar,  to  sing  the  idea  of  all ; 

To  the  north  betaking  myself,  to  sing  there  arctic  songs, 

To  Kanada,  'till  I  absorb  Kanada  in  myself — to  Michi- 
gan then, 

To  Wisconsin,  Iowa,  Minnesota,  to  sing  their  songs, 
(they  are  inimitable ;) 

Then  to  Ohio  and  Indiana  to  sing  theirs  —  to  Missouri 
and  Kansas  and  Arkansas  to  sing  theirs, 

To  Tennessee  and  Kentucky  —  to  the  Carolinas  and 
Georgia,  to  sing  theirs, 

To  Texas,  and  so  along  up  toward  California,  to  roam 
accepted  everywhere ; 

To  sing  first,  (to  the  tap  of  the  war-drum,  if  need  be.) 

The  idea  of  all  —  of  the  western  world,  one  and  insep- 
arable, 

And  then  the  song  of  each  member  of  These  States. 


BEGINNING  MY  STUDIES. 


BEGINNING  my  studies,  the  first  step  pleas' d  me  so  much, 
The  mere  fact,  consciousness  —  these  forms  —  the  pow- 
er of  motion, 

The  least  insect  or  animal  —  the  senses  —  eyesight ; 
The  first  step,  I  say,  aw'd  me  and  pleas' d  me  so  much, 
I  have  never  gone,  and  never  wish'd  to  go,  any  farther. 
But  stop  and  loiter  all  my  life,  to  sing  it  in  extatic  pongs. 


THE 

CENTENARIAN'S  STORY, 


VOLUNTEER  OF  1861, 

(At  "Washington  Park,  Brooklyn,  assisting  the  Centenarian.) 

1  Give  me  your  hand,  old  Revolutionary ; 

The  hill-top  is  nigh  —  but  a  few   steps,   (make  room, 

gentlemen ; ) 
Up  the  path  you  have  folio w'd  me  well,  spite  of  your 

hundred  and  extra  years ; 
You  can  walk,  old  man,  though  your  eyes  are  almost 

done; 
Your  faculties  serve  you,  and  presently  I  must  have 

them  serve  me. 

2  Rest,  while  I  tell  what  the  crowd  around  us  means ; 
On  the  plain  below,  recruits  are  drilling  and  exercising ; 
There  is  the  camp  —  one  regiment  departs  to  morrow ; 
Do  you  hear  the  officers  giving  the  orders  ? 

Do  you  hear  the  clank  of  the  muskets  ? 

3  Why,  what  comes  over  you  now,  old  man  ? 

Why  do  you  tremble,  and  clutch  my  hand  so  convul- 
sively 1 

The  troops  are  but  drilling  —  they  are  yet  surrounded 
with  smiles ; 

Around  them  at  hand,  the  well  drest  friends  and  the 
women ; 

While   splendid   and   warm   the   afternoon   sun   shines 
down; 

(19) 


20  DRUM-TAPS. 

Green  the  midsummer  verdure,  and  fresh  blows  the  dal- 
lying breeze, 

O'er  proud  and  peaceful  cities,  and  arm  of  the  sea  be- 
tween. 

*  But  drill  and  parade  are  over  —  they  march  back  to 
quarters ; 

Only  hear  that  approval  of  hands !  hear  what  a  clap- 
ping! 

5  As  wending,  the  crowds  now  part  and  disperse  —  but 

we,  old  man, 
Not  for  nothing  have  I  brought  you  hither  —  we  must 

remain ; 
You  to  speak  in  your  turn,  and  I  to  listen  and  tell. 

THE  CENTENARIAN. 

6  When  I  clutch' d  your  hand,  it  was  not  wTith  terror ; 
But  suddenly,  pouring  about  me  here,  on  every  side, 
And  below  there  where  the  boys  were  drilling,  and  up 

the  slopes  they  ran, 
And  where  tents  are  pitch' d,   and  wherever  you  see, 

south   and  south-east  and  south-west, 
Over  hills,  across  lowlands,  and  in  the  skills  of  woods, 
And  along  the  shores,  in  mire  (now  fill'd  over,)  came 

again,  and  suddenly  raged, 
As   eighty-five  years  a- gone,  no  mere  parade  receiv'd 

with  applause  of  friends, 
But  a  battle,  which  I  took  part  in  myself —  aye,  long  ago 

as  it  is,  I  took  part  in  it, 
Walking  then  this  hill-top,  this  same  ground. 

7  Aye,  this  is  the  ground ; 

My  blind  eyes,  even  as  I  speak,  behold  it  re-peopled 
from  graves : 

The  years  recede,  pavements  and  stately  houses  disap- 
pear: 


THE  CENTENARIAN'S  STORV.  21 

Rude    forts    appear    again,  the    old    hoop'd    guns    are 

mounted ; 
I  see  the  lines  of  rais'd  earth  stretching  from  river  to 

bay; 

I  mark   the   vista  of  waters,  I  mark  the  uplands  and 

slopes : 
Here  we  lay  encamp' d  —  it  was  this  time  in  summer  also. 

s  As  I  talk,  I  remember  all  —  I  remember  the  Declara- 
tion: 

It  was  read  here  —  the  whole  army  paraded  —  it  was 
read  to  us  here ; 

By  his  staff  surrounded,  the  general  stood  in  the  mid- 
dle—  he  held  up  his  unsheath'd  sword, 

It  glitter' d  in  the  sun  in  full  sight  of  the  army. 

9  'Twas  a  bold  act  then ; 

The  English  war  ships  had  just  arrived  — the  king  had 

sent  them  from  over  the  sea ; 
We  could  watch  down  the  lower  bay  where  they  lay  at 

anchor, 
And  the  transports,  swarming  with  soldiers. 

10  A  few  days  more,  and  they  landed  —  and  then  the 

battle. 

II  Twenty  thousand  were  brought  against  us, 
A  veteran  force,  furnish' d  with  good  artillery. 

12  I  tell  not  now  the  whole  of  the  battle  ; 

But  one  brigade,  early  in  the  forenoon,  order' d  forward 

to  engage  the  red-coats ; 

Of  that  brigade  I  tell,  and  how  steadily  it  march' d, 
And  how  long  and  how  well  it  stood,  confronting  death. 

13  Who  do  you  think  that  was,  marching  steadily,  stern- 

ly confronting  death  ? 

It  was  the  brigade  of  the  youngest  men,  two  thousand 
strong, 


22  DKUM-TAPS. 

Itais'd  in  Virginia  and  Maryland,   and  many  of  them 
known  personally  to  the  General. 

i*    Jauntily  forward  they  went  with  quick  step  toward 

Gowanus'  waters ; 
Till  of  a  sudden,  unlook'd  for,  by  denies  through  the 

woods,  gain'd  at  night, 
The   British   advancing,    wedging    in    from    the   east, 

fiercely  playing  their  guns, 
That  brigade  of  the  youngest  was  cut  off,  and  at  the 

enemy's  mercy. 

ij    The  General  watch' d  them  from  this  hill ; 

They  made  repeated  desperate  attempts  to  burst  their 

environment ; 
Then  drew   close   together,    very   compact,    their   flag 

flying  in  the  middle  ; 
But  O  from  the  hills  how  the  cannon  were  thinning  and 

thinning  them  1 

16   It  sickens  me  yet,  that  slaughter ! 
I  saw  the  moisture  gather  in  drops  on  the  face  of  the 
General ; 

I  saw  how  he  wrung  his  hands  in  anguish. 

. 

IT    Meanwhile  the  British  maneuver'd  to  draw  us  out 

for  a  pitch' d  battle  ; 
But  we  dared  not  trust  the  chances  of  a  pitch' d  battle. 

"    We  fought  the  fight  in  detachments  ; 

Sallying  forth,  we  fought  at  several  points  —  but  in  each 

the  luck  was  against  us  ; 
Our  foe  advancing,  steadily  getting  the  best  of  it,  push'd 

us  back  to  the  works  on  this  hill ; 
Till  we  turn'd  menacing,  here,  and  then  he  left  us. 

10    That  was  the  going  out  of  the  brigade  of  the  young- 
est men,  two  thousand  strong ; 
Few  return' d  —  nearly  all  remain  in  Brooklyn. 


THE  CENTENARIAN'S  STORY.  23 

20    That,  and  here,  my  General's  first  battle ; 

No  women  looking   on,    nor   sunshine  to  bask  in  —  it 

did  not  conclude  with  applause  ; 
Nobody  clapp'd  hands  here  then. 

«    But  in  darkness,    in  mist,    on  the  ground,   under  a 

chill  rain, 

Wearied  that  night  we  lay,  foil'd  and  sullen  ; 
While  scornfully   laugh' d   many  an  arrogant   lord,    off 

against  us  encamp' d, 
Quite  within   hearing,   feasting,    klinking   wine-glasses 

together  over  their  victory. 

n    So,  dull  and  damp  and  another  day ; 
But  the  night  of  that,  mist  lifting,  rain  ceasing, 
Silent  fi.-j  a  ghost,  while  they  thought  they  were  sure  of 
him,  my  General  retreated. 

2»    I  saw  him  at  the  river-side, 

Down  uy  the  ferry,  lit  by  torches,  hastening  the  embar- 

ration ; 
My  General  waited  till  the  soldiers  and  wounded  were 

all  pass'd  over; 
And  then,  (it  was  just  ere  sunrise,)  these  eyes  rested  on 

him  for  the  last  time. 

2*    Every  one  else  seem'd  fill'd  with  gloom ; 
Many  no  doubt  thought  of  capitulation. 

«    But  when  my  General  pass'd  me, 

As  he  stood  in  his  boat,  and  look'd  toward  the  coming 

sun, 
I  saw  something  different  from  capitulation. 

TERMINUS. 

26   Enough  —  the  Centenarian's  story  ends  ; 
The  two,  the  past  and  present,  have  interchanged  ; 
I  inyse1.!',  as  connecter,  as  cha.nsonnier  of  a  great  future, 
am  now  speaking. 


24  DRUM-TAPS. 

27    And  is  this  the  ground  Washington  trod  ? 

And  these  waters  I  listlessly  daily  cross,  are  these  the 

waters  he  cross' d, 
As  resolute  in  defeat,  as  other  generals  in  then-  proudest 

triumphs  ? 

23    It  is  well  —  a  lesson  like  that,  always  comes  good  ; 

I  must  copy  the  story,  and  send  it  eastward  and  west- 
ward ; 

I  must  preserve  that  look,  as  it  beam'd  on  you,  rivers  of 
Brooklyn. 

»    See !    as   the   annual   round   returns,    the   phantoms 

return ; 

It  is  the  27th  of  August,  and  the  British  have  landed ; 
The  battle  begins,  and  goes  against  us — behold !  through 

the  smoke  Washington's  face ; 
The  brigade  of  Virginia  and   Maryland   have   march' d 

forth  to  intercept  the  enemy ; 
They  are  cut  off — murderous  artillery  from  the  hills 

plays  upon  them  ; 
Rank  after  rank  falls,  while  over  them  silently  droops 

the  flag, 
Baptized    that   day   in   many   a   young   man's    bloody 

wounds, 
In  death,  defeat,  and  sisters',  mothers'  tears. 

so  Ah,  hills  and  slopes  of  Brooklyn !  I  perceive  you 
are  more  valuable  than  your  owners  supposed ; 

Ah,  river!  henceforth  you  will  be  illumin'd  to  me  at 
sunrise  with  Something  besides  the  sun. 

si    Encampments  new !  in  the  midst  of  you  stands  an 

encampment  very  old ; 
Stands  forever  the  camp  of  the  dead  brigade. 


PIONEERS  ! 

O   PIONEERS  ! 


l 

COME,  my  tan-faced  children, 
Follow  well  in  order,  get  your  weapons  ready ; 
Have  you  your  pistols'?    have   you   your  sharp  edged 
axes  ? 

Pioneers !  O  pioneers ! 

2 

For  we  cannot  tarry  here, 
We  must  march  my  darlings,  we  must  bear  the  brunt  of 

danger, 

We,  the  youthful  sinewy  races,  all  the  rest  on  us  depend, 
Pioneers !  O  pioneers ! 


O  you  youths,  western  youths, 
So  impatient,   full  of  action,  full  of  manly   pride  and 

friendship, 

Plain  I  see  you,  western  youths,  see  you  tramping  with 
the  foremost, 
Pioneers !  O  pioneers  ! 

4 

Have  the  elder  races  halted  ? 
Do  they  droop  and  end  their  lesson,  wearied,  over  there 

beyond  the  seas  ? 

We  take  up  the  task  eternal,  and  the  burden,  and  the 
lesson, 

Pioneers !  O  pioneers ! 
c 


DRUM-TAPS. 


All  the  past  we  leave  behind ; 
We   debouch   upon   a   newer,    mightier   world,    varied 

world ; 

Fresh  and  strong  the  world  we  seize,  world  of  labor  and 
the  march, 

Pioneers !  O  pioneers ! 


We  detachments  steady  throwing, 
Down  the  edges,  through  the  passes,  up  the  mountains 

steep, 

Conquering,  holding,  daring,  venturing,  as  we  go,  the 
unknown  ways, 

Pioneers  !  O  pioneers  ! 


We  primeval  forests  felling, 
We  the  rivers  stemming,  vexing  we,  and  piercing  deep 

the  mines  within  ; 

We  the  surface  broad  surveying,  and  the  virgin  soil  up- 
heaving, 

Pioneers  !  O  pioneers  ! 


Colorado  men  are  we, 
From  the  peaks  gigantic,  from  the  great  sierras  and  the 

high  plateaus, 

From  the  mine  and  from  the  gully,  from  the  hunting 
trail  we  come, 

Pioneers !  O  pioneers ! 


From  Nebraska,  from  Arkansas, 

Central  inland  race  are  we,  from  Missouri,  with  the  con- 
tinental blood  intervein'd ; 

All  the  hands  of  comrades  clasping,  all  the  Southern,  all 
the  Northern, 

Pioneers  !     O  pioneers ! 


PIONEERS  !  O  PIONEERS  !  27 

10 

O  resistless,  restless  race  ! 
O  beloved  race  in  all !    O  my  breast  aches  with  tender 

love  for  all ! 

O  I  mourn  and  yet  exult  —  I  am  rapt  with  love  for  all, 
Pioneers !  O  pioneers  ! 

11 

Raise  the  mighty  mother  mistress, 
Waving  high  the  delicate  mistress,  over  all  the  starry 

mistress,  (bend  your  heads  all,) 

Raise  the  fang'd  and  warlike  mistress,  stern,  impassive, 
weapon' d  mistress, 
Pioneers !  O  pioneers ! 

12 

See,  my  children,  resolute  children, 
By  those  swarms  upon  our  rear,  we  must  never  yield  or 

falter, 

Ages  back  in  ghostly  millions,  frowning  there  behind  us 
urging, 

Pioneers !  O  pioneers ! 

13 

On  and  on,  the  compact  ranks, 
With  accessions  ever  waiting,  with  the  places  of  the 

dead  quickly  fill'd, 

Through  the  battle,  through   defeat,   moving  yet  and 
never  stopping, 

Pioneers  !     O  pioneers  ! 

14 

O  to  die  advancing  on  ! 
Are  there  some  of  us  to  droop  and  die  ?  has  the  hour 

come  ?  * 

Then  upon  the  march  we  fittest  die,  soon  and  sure  the 
gap  is  fill'd, 

Pioneers !  O  pioneers ! 


28  DRUM-TAPS. 

15 

All  the  pulses  of  the  world, 
Falling  in,  they  beat  for  us,  Avith  the  western  movement 

beat; 

Holding  single  or  together,  steady  moving,  to  the  front, 
all  for  us, 

Pioneers !  O  pioneers ! 

16 

Life's  involv'd  and  varied  pageants, 
All   the   forms   and   shows,   all  the   workmen  at  their 

work, 

All  the  seamen  and  the  landsmen,  all  the  masters  with 
their  slaves, 

Pioneers  !  O  pioneers ! 

17 

All  the  hapless  silent  lovers, 
All  the  prisoners  in  the  prisons,  all  the  righteous  and 

the  wicked, 

All  the  joyous,  all  the  sorrowing,  all  the  living,  all  the 
dying, 

Pioneers  !     O  pioneers ! 

18 

I  too  with  my  soul  and  body, 

We,  a  curious  trio,  picking,  wandering  on  our  way, 
Through   these   shores,    amid   the   shadows,    with   the 
apparitions  pressing, 

Pioneers  !     O  pioneers ! 


Lo  !  the  darting  bowling  orb ! 
Lo !  the  brother  orbs  around !  all  the  clustering  suns  and 

planets ; 

All  the  dazzling  days,  all  the  mystic  nights  with  dreams, 
Pioneers  !     O  pioneers ! 


PIONEERS  !  O  PIONEERS  !  29 

20 

These  are  of  us,  they  are  with  us, 
All  for  primal  needed  work,  while  the  followers  there  in 

embryo  wait  behind, 

We  to-day's  procession  heading,  we  the  route  for  travel 
clearing, 

Pioneers !  O  pioneers  ! 

21 

O  you  daughters  of  the  west ! 
O  you  young  and  elder  daughters  !  O  you  mothers  and 

you  wives ! 

Never  must  you  be  divided,  in  our  ranks   you   move 
united, 

Pioneers  !  O  pioneers  ! 

22 

Minstrels  latent  on  the  prairies  ! 
(Shrouded  bards  of  other  lands !  you  may  sleep  —  you 

have  done  your  work  ;) 

Soon  I  hear  you  coining  warbling,  soon  you  rise  and 
tramp  amid  us, 

Pioneers  !  O  pioneers  ! 

23 

Not  for  delectations  sweet ; 
Not  the  cushion  and  'the  slipper,  not  the  peaceful  and 

the  studious ; 

Not  the  riches  safe  and  palling,  not  for  us  the  tame  en- 
joyment, 

Pioneers !  O  pioneers  ! 

24 

Do  the  feasters  gluttonous  feast  ? 
Do  the  corpulent  sleepers^  sleep  ?  have  they  lock'd  and 

bolted  doors  1 

Still  be  ours  the   diet  hard,  and  the  blanket  on  the 
ground, 

Pioneers  !  O  pioneers ! 


30  DKUM-TAPS. 

25 

Has  the  night  descended  I 

Was  the  road  of  late  so  toilsome  ?  did  we  stop  discour- 
aged, nodding  on  our  way  I 

Yet  a  passing  hour  I  yield  you,  in  your  tracks  to  pause 
oblivious, 

Pioneers  !  O  pioneers  ! 

26 

Till  with  sound  of  trumpet, 
Far,  far  off  the  day-break  call  —  hark !  how  loud  and 

clear  I  hear  it  wind ; 

Swift !    to   the  head  of  the   army  !  —  swift !    spring  to 
your  places, 

Pioneers !  O  pioneers  1 


QUICKSAND  YEARS   THAT  WHIRL  ME 
I  KNOW  NOT  WHITHER. 


QUICKSAND  years  that  whirl  me  I  know  not  whither, 

Your  schemes,  politics,  fail  —  lines  give  way  —  substan- 
ces mock  and  elude  me  ; 

Only  the  theme  I  sing,  the  great  and  strong-possess' d 
soul,  eludes  not ; 

One's-self,  must  never  give  way  —  that  is  the  final  sub- 
stance —  that  out  of  all  is  sure ; 

Out  of  politics,  triumphs,  battles,  death  —  what  at  last 
finally  remains  1 

When  shows  break  up,  what  but  One's-Self  is  sure? 


THE     DRESSER. 


1  AN  old  man  bending,  I  come,  among  new  faces, 
Years  looking  backward,  resuming,  in  answer  to  chil- 
dren, 

Come  tell  us  old  man,  as  from  young  men  and  maidens 

that  love  me ; 
Years  hence  of  these  scenes,  of  these  furious  passions, 

these  chances, 
Of  unsurpass'd  heroes,  (was   one   side  so   brave'?   the 

other  was  equally  brave  ;) 
Now  be  witness  again  —  paint  the  mightiest  armies  of 

earth ; 
Of  those  armies  so  rapid,  so  wondrous,  what  saw  you  to 

tell  us  ? 
What  stays  with  you   latest  and   deepest?   of  curious 

panics, 
Of  hard-fought    engagements,    or   sieges   tremendous, 

what  deepest  remains ? 

2  O  maidens  and  young  men  I  love,  and  that  love  me, 
What  you  ask  of  my  days,  those  the  strangest  and  sud- 
den your  talking  recals ; 

Soldier  alert  I  arrive,  after  a  long  march,  cover' d  with 
sweat  and  dust ; 

In  the  nick  of  time  I  come,  plunge  in  the  fight,  loudly 
shout  in  the  rush  of  successful  charge ; 

Enter  the  captur'd  wrorks  ....  yet  lo !  like  a  swift- 
running  river,  they  fade ; 

Pass  and  are  gone,  they  fade  —  I  dwell  not  on  soldiers' 
perils  or  soldiers'  joys ; 

(Both  I  remember  well  —  many  the  hardships,  few  the 
joys,  yet  I  Avas  content.) 

(31) 


32  DRUM-TAPS. 

«    But  in  silence,  in  dream's  projections, 
While  the  world  of  gain  and  appearance  and  mirth  goes 

on, 
So  soon  what   is   over  forgotten,  and  waves  wash  the 

imprints  off  the  sand, 
In  nature's  reverie  sad,  with  hinged  knees  returning,  I 

enter  the  doors  —  (while  for  you  up  there, 
Whoever  you  are,  follow  me  without  noise,  and  be  of 

strong  heart.) 

*    Bearing  the  bandages,  water  and  sponge, 

Straight  and  swift  to  my  wounded  I  go, 

Where  they  lie  on  the  ground,  after  the  battle  brought 

in; 
Where   their  priceless   blood  reddens   the   grass,    the 

ground ; 
Or  to  the  rows  of  the  hospital  tent,  or  under  the  roof'd 

hospital ; 
To  the  long  rows  of  cots,  up  and  down,  each  side,  I 

return ; 
To  each  and  all,  one  after  another,  I  draw  near  —  not 

one  do  I  miss  ; 
An   attendant   follows,  holding   a  tray  —  he   carries   a 

refuse  pail, 
Soon  to  be  fill'd  with  clotted  rags  and  blood,  emptied, 

and  fill'd  again. 

5    I  onward  go,  I  stop, 

With  hinged  knees  and  steady  hand,  to  dress  wounds ; 

I  am  firm  with  each  —  the  pangs  are  sharp,  yet  unavoid- 
able; 

One  turns  to  me  his  appealing  eyes  —  (poor  boy !  I 
never  knew  you, 

Yet  I  think  I  could  not  refuse  this  moment  to  die  for 
you,  if  that  would  save  you.) 

u  On,  on  I  go  —  (open,  doors  of  tune !  open,  hospital 
doors !) 


THE  DRESSER.  33 

The  crush' d  head  I  dress,  (poor  crazed  hand,  tear  not  the 

bandage  away ; ) 
The  neck  of  the  cavalry-man,  with  the  bullet  through 

and  through,  I  examine ; 
Hard  the  breathing  rattles,  quite  glazed  already  the  eye, 

yet  life  struggles  hard ; 

(Come,  sweet  death !  be  persuaded,  O  beautiful  death ! 
In  mercy  come  quickly.) 

7    From  the  stump  of  the  arm,  the  amputated  hand, 

I  undo  the  clotted  lint,  remove  the  slough,  wash  off  the 

matter  and  blood ; 
Back  on  his  pillow  the  soldier  bends,  with  curv'd  neck, 

and  side-falling  head ; 
His  eyes  are  closed,  his  face  is  pale,  he  dares  not  look  on 

the  bloody  stump, 
And  has  not  yet  looked  on  it. 

s   I  dress  a  wound  in  the  side,  deep,  deep ; 

But  a  day  or  two  more  —  for  see,  the  frame  all  wasted 

and  sinking, 
And  the  yellow-blue  countenance  see. 

9  I  dress  the  perforated  shoulder,  the  foot  wTith  the  bul- 

let wound, 
Cleanse  the  one  with  a  gnawing  and  putrid  gangrene,  so 

sickening,  so  oifensive, 
While  the  attendant  stands  behind  aside  me,   holding 

the  tray  and  pail. 

10  I  am  faithful,  I  do  not  give  out ; 

The  fractur'd  thigh,  the  knee,  the  wound  in  the  abdo- 
men, 

These  and  more  I  dress  with  impassive  hand  —  (yet 
deep  in  my  breast  a  fire,  a  burning  flame.) 

n    Thus  in  silence,  in  dream's  projections, 
Returning,  resuming,  I  thread  my  way  through  the  hos- 
pitals ; 


34  DRUM-TAPS 

The  hurt  and  the  wounded  I  pacify  with  soothing  hand, 
I  sit  by  the  restless  all  the  dark  night  —  some  are  so 

young ; 
Some  suffer  so  much  —  I  recall  the   experience  sweet 

and  sad ; 
(Many  a  soldier's   loving   arms  about  this   neck   have 

cross' d  and  rested, 
Many  a  soldier's  kiss  dwells  on  these  bearded  lips.) 


WHEN   I   HEARD    THE   LEARN'D 
ASTRONOMER. 


WHEN  I  heard  the  learn' d  astronomer ; 

When  the  proofs,  the  figures,  were  ranged  in  columns 

before  me ; 
When  I  was  shown  the  charts  and  the  diagrams,  to  add, 

divide,  and  measure  them ; 
When    I,    sitting,    heard    the    astronomer,    where    he 

lectured  with  much  applause  in  the  lecture-room, 
How  soon,  unaccountable,  I  became  tired  and  sick  ; 
Till  rising  and  gliding  out,  I  wander' d  off  by  myself, 
In  the  mystical  moist  night-air,  and  from  time  to  time, 
Look'd  up  in  perfect  silence  at  the  stars. 


RISE   O   DAYS   FROM   YOUR   FATH- 
OMLESS   DEEPS. 


RISE,  O  days,  from  your  fathomless  deeps,  till  you  loftier 

and  fiercer  sweep ! 
Long  for  my  soul,    hungering   gymnastic,  I  devour' d 

what  the  earth  gave  me ; 
Long  I  roam'd  the  woods  of  the  north  —  long  I  watch' d 

Niagara  pouring ; 
I  travel' d  the  prairies  over,  and  slept  on  their  breast  —  I 

cross' d  the  Nevadas,  I  cross' d  the  plateaus; 
I  ascended  the  towering  rocks  along  the  Pacific,  I  sail'd 

out  to  sea ; 

I  sail'd  through  the  storm,  I  was  refresh' d  by  the  storm ; 
I  watch' d  with  joy  the  threatening  maws  of  the  waves  ; 
I  mark'd  the  white  combs  where  they  career' d  so  high, 

curling  over  ; 

I  heard  the  wind  piping,  I  saw  the  black  clouds ; 
Saw  from  below  what  arose  and  mounted,  (O  superb !  O 

wild  as  my  heart,  and  powerful!) 
Heard  the  continuous  thunder,  as  it  bellow' d  after  the 

lightning ; 
Noted  the  slender  and  jagged  threads  of  lightning,  as 

sudden  and  fast  amid  the  din  they  chased  each 

other  across  the  sky  ; 
—  These,  and  such  as  these,  I,  elate,  saw  —  saw  with 

wonder,  yet  pensive  and  masterful ; 
All  the  menacing  might  of  the  globe  uprisen  around  me ; 
Yet  there  with  my  soul  I  fed  —  I  fed  content,  super- 
cilious. 

(85) 


36  DRUM-TAPS. 


'Twas  well,  O  soul !  'twas  a  good  preparation  you  gave 

me! 

Now  we  advance  our  latent  and  ampler  hunger  to  fill ; 
Now  we  go  forth  to  receive  what  the  earth  and  the  sea 

never  gave  us ; 
Not  through  the  mighty  woods  we  go,  but  through  the 

mightier  cities ; 
Something  for  us  is  pouring  now,  more  than  Niagara 

pouring ; 
Torrents  of  men,  (sources  and  rills  of  the  Northwest,  are 

you  indeed  inexhaustible  ?) 
What,  to  pavements  and  homesteads  here  — what  were 

those  storms  of  the  mountains  and  sea  ? 
What,  to  passions  I  witness  around  me  to-day  ?     Was 

the  sea  risen  ? 
Was  the  wind  piping  the  pipe  of  death  under  the  black 

clouds  1 
Lo !  from  deeps  more  unfathomable,    something   more 

deadly  and  savage ; 
Manhattan,  rising,    advancing  with  menacing   front  — 

Cincinnati,  Chicago,  unchain' d ; 
— What  was  that   swell  I  saw  on  the  ocean  ?   behold 

what  comes  here ! 
How  it  climbs   with   daring   feet   and   hands  I    how  it 

dashes ! 
How  the  true  thunder  bellows  after  the  lightning !  how 

bright  the  flashes  of  lightning ! 
How  DEMOCRACY,  with  desperate  vengeful  port  strides 

on,  shown  through  the  dark  by  those  flashes  of 

lightning ! 
(Yet  a  mournful   wail  and  low  sob  I  fancied   I   heard 

through  the  dark, 
In  a  lull  of  the  deafening  confusion.) 


Thunder  on !  stride  on  Democracy !  strike  with  vengeful 

stroke ! 
And  do  you  rise  higher  than  ever  yet,  O  days,  O  cilies ! 


RISE,  O  DAYS  !  37 

Crash  heavier,  heavier  yet,  O  storms!  you  have  done 
me  good ; 

My  soul,  prepared  in  the  mountains,  absorbs  your  im- 
mortal strong  nutriment ; 

Long  had  I  walk'd  my  cities,  my  country  roads,  through 
farms,  only  half  satisfied  ; 

One  doubt,  nauseous,  undulating  like  a  snake,  crawl' d 
on  the  ground  before  me,  -, 

Continually  preceding  my  steps,  turning  upon  me  oft, 
ironically  hissing  low; 

—  The  cities  I  loved  so  well,  I  abandon' d  and  left  —  I 

sped  to  the  certainties  suitable  to  me ; 
Hungering,  hungering,  hungering,  for  primal  energies, 

and  Nature's  dauntlcssness, 

I  refresh' d  myself  with  it  only,  I  could  relish  it  only ; 
I  waited  the   bursting  forth  of  the  pent  fire  —  on  the 

water  and  ah- 1  waited  long ; 

—  But  now  I  no  longer  wait  —  I  am  fully  satisfied  —  I 

am  glutted ; 

I  have  witness' d  the  true  lightning  —  I  have  witness' d 
my  cities  electric ; 

I  have  lived  to  behold  man  burst  forth,  and  warlike 
America  rise ; 

Hence  I  will  seek  no  more  the  food  of  the  northern  soli- 
tary wilds, 

No  more  on  the  mountains  roam,  or  sail  the  stormy  sea. 


A  CHILD'S   AMAZE. 

SILENT  and  amazed,  even  when  a  little  boy, 

I  remember  I  heard  the  preacher  every  Sunday  put  God 

in  his  statements, 
As  contending  against  some  being  or  influence. 


38  BROI-TAP?. 

BEAT  !    BEAT  !    DRUMS  ! 
i 

BEAT  !  beat !  drums  !  —  Blow  !  bugles  !  blow  ! 
Through  the  windows  —  through  doors  —  burst  like  a 

force  of  ruthless  men, 

Into  the  solemn  church,  and  scatter  the  congregation  ; 
Into  the  school  where  the  scholar  is  studying : 
Leave  not  the   bridegroom  quiet  —  no  happiness  must 

he  have  now  with  his  bride  ; 
Nor  the  peaceful  farmer  any  peace,  plowing  his  field  or 

gathering  his  grain ; 
So  fierce  you  whirr  and  pound,  you  drams  —  so  shrill 

you  bugles  blow. 

2 

Beat !  beat !  drams  !  — Blow !  bugles  !  blow ! 
Over  the  traffic  of  cities  —  over  the  rumble  of  wheels  in 

the  streets : 
Are  beds  prepared  for  sleepers  at  night  in  the  houses  ? 

No  sleepers  must  sleep  in  those  beds ; 
No  bargainers'  bargains  by  day  —  no  brokers  or  specu- 
lators —  Would  they  continue  ^. 
Would  the  talkers  be  talking  1  would  the  singer  attempt 

to  sing  1 
Would  the  lawyer  rise  in  the  court  to  state  his  case 

before  the  judge "! 
Then  rattle  quicker,  heavier  drums  —  you  bugles  wilder 

blow'. 

s 

Beat !  beat !  drums  !  • —  Blow  !  bugles  !  blow  ! 
Make  no  parley  —  stop  for  no  expostulation  ; 
Mind  not  the  timid  —  mind  not  the  w^eeper  or  prayer ; 
Mind  not  the  old  man  beseeching  the  young  man ; 
Let  not  the  child's  voice  be  heard,  nor  the  mother's  en- 
treaties ; 
Make  even  the  trestles  to  shake  the  dead,  where  they  lie 

awaiting  the  hearses, 
So    strong    you   thump,    O    terrible    drums  —  so   loud 

you  bugles  blow. 


COME    UP    FROM    THE    FIELDS 
FATHER. 


i    Come  up  from  the  fields,  father,  here's  a  letter  from 

our  Pete ; 
And  come  to  the  front  door,  mother  —  here's  a  letter 

from  thy  dear  son. 

*  Lo,  'tis  autumn; 

Lo,  where  the  trees,  deeper  green,  yellower  and  redder, 
Cool  and  sweeten  Ohio's  villages,  with  leaves  fluttering 

in  the  moderate  wind ; 
Where  apples  ripe  in  the  orchards  hang,  and  grapes  on 

the  trellis' d  vines ; 

(Smell  you  the  smell  of  the  grapes  on  the  vines  ? 
Smell  you  the  buckwheat,  where  the  bees  were  lately 

buzzing  ?) 

3  Above  all,  lo,  the  sky,  so  calm,  so  transparent  after 
the  rain,  and  with  wondrous  clouds  ; 

Below,  too,  all  calm,  all  vital  and  beautiful  —  and  the 
farm  prospers  well. 

*  Down  in  the  fields  all  prospers  well ; 

But  now  from  the   fields  come,   father  —  come  at  the 

daughter's  call ; 
And  come  to  the  entry,  mother  —  to  the  front  door  come, 

right  away. 

6    Fast  as  she  can  she  hurries  —  something  ominous  — 

her  steps  trembling ; 
She  does  not  tarry  to  smooth  her  white  hair,  nor  adjust 

her  cap. 

139) 


40  DRUM-TAPS. 

e    Open  the  envelope  quickly ; 

O  this  is  not  our  son's  writing,  yet  his  name  is  sign'd; 

O  a  strange  hand  writes  for  our  dear  son  —  O  stricken 

mother's  soul ! 
Ail   swims  before  her  eyes  —  flashes  with  black  —  she 

catches  the  main  words  only ; 
Sentences  broken — gun-shot  wound  in  the  breast,  r.avab~y 

skirmish,  taken  to  hospital. 
At  present  low,  but  will  soon  be  better. 

7    Ah,  now  the  single  figure  to  me, 

Amid  all  teeming  and  wealthy  Ohio,  with  all  its  cities 

and  farms, 

Sickly  white  in  the  face  and  dull  in  the  head,  very  faint, 
By  the  jamb  of  a  door  leans. 

s    Ch^ieve  not  so,   dear  motlier,  (the  just-grown  daughter 

speaks  through  her  sobs ; 
The   little   sisters   huddle   around,  speechless  and   dis- 

may'd;) 
See,  dearest  mother,  the  letter  says  Pete  will  soon  be  better. 

9  Alas,  poor  boy,  he  will  never  be  better,  (nor  may-be 

needs  to  be  better,  that  brave  and  simple  soul;) 
While  they  stand  at  home  at  the  door,  he  is  dead  already ; 
The  only  son  is  dead. 

10  But  the  mother  needs  to  be  better ; 

She,  with  thin  form,  presently  drest  in  black ; 

By   day  her  meals   untouch'd  —  then   at   night  fitfully 

sleeping,  often  waking, 
In  the  midnight  waking,  weeping,  longing  with  one  deep 

longing, 
O  that  she  might  withdraw  unnoticed  —  silent  from  life, 

escape  and  withdraw, 
To  follow,  to  seek,  to  be  with  her  dear  dead  son. 


DHUM-TAPS.  41 

CITY    OF   SHIPS. 

CITY  of  ships ! 

(O  the  black  ships  !  O  the  fierce  ships  ! 

O  the  beautiful,  sharp  bow'd  steam-ships  and  sail-ships !) 

City  of  the  world !  (for  all  races  are  here ; 

All  the  lands  of  the  earth  make  contributions  here ;) 

City  of  the  sea !  city  of  hurried  and  glittering  tides ! 

City   whose   gleeful   tides   continually   rush   or  recede, 

whirling  in  and  out,  with  eddies  and  foam  ! 
City  of  wharves  and  stores !  city  of  tall  facades  of  mar- 
ble and  iron ! 

Proud  and  passionate  city!  mettlesome,  mad,  extrava- 
gant city ! 
Spring  up,  O  city !  not  for  peace  alone,  but  be  indeed 

yourself,  warlike ! 

Fear  not !  submit  to  no  models  but  your  own,  O  city  ! 
Behold  me  !  incarnate  me,  as  I  have  incarnated  you  ! 
I  have  rejected  nothing  you  offer' d  me  —  whom  you 

adopted,  I  have  adopted ; 
Good  or  bad,  I  never  question  you  —  I  love  all  —  I  do 

not  condemn  anything ; 
I  chant  and  celebrate  all  that  is  yours  —  yet  peace  no 

more ; 
In  peace  I  chanted  peace,  but  now  the  drum  of  war  is 

mine; 
War,  red  war,  is  my  song  through  your  streets,  O  city ! 


MOTHER  .AND  BABE. 

I   SEE   the   sleeping   babe,   nestling  the    breast    of   its 

mother ; 
The  sleeping  mother  and  babe  —  hush'd,  I  study  them 

long  and  long. 


42  DRUM-TAPS. 

VlGIL      STRANGE      I      KEPT      ON      THE 
FIELD    ONE     NIGHT. 


VIGIL  strange  I  kept  on  the  field  one  night, 

When  you,  my  son  and  my  comrade,  dropt  at  my  side 

that  day, 
One  look  I  but  gave,  which  your  dear  eyes  return' d, 

with  a  look  I  shall  never  forget ; 
One  touch  of  your  hand  to  mine,  O  boy,  reach' d  up  as 

you  lay  on  the  ground ; 
Then  onward  I  sped  in  the  battle,  the  even-contested 

battle ; 
Till  late  in  the  night  reliev'd,  to  the  place  at  last  again  I 

made  my  way ; 
Found  you  in  death  so  cold,  dear  comrade  —  found  your 

body,  son  of  responding  kisses,  (never  again  on 

earth  responding : ) 
Bared  your  face  in  the  starlight — ?  curious  the  scene  — 

cool  blew  the  moderate  night-wind  ; 
Long  there  and  then  in  vigil  I  stood,  dimly  around  me 

the  battle-field  spreading ; 
Vigil  wondrous  and  vigil  sweet,  there  in  the  fragrant 

silent  night ; 
But  not  a  tear  fell,  not  even  a  long-drawn  sigh  —  Long, 

long  I  gazed ; 
Then  on  the  earth  partially  reclining,  sat  by  your  side, 

leaning  my  chin  in  my  hands  ; 
Passing  sweet  hours,  immortal  and  mystic  hours  with 

you,  dearest  comrade  —  Not  a  tear,  not  a  word ; 
Vigil  of  silence,  love  and  death  —  vigil  for  you,  my  son 

and  my  soldier, 

As  onward  silently  stars  aloft,  eastward  new  ones  up- 
ward stole ; 
Vigil  final  for  you,  brave  boy,  (I  could  not  save  you, 

swift  was  your  death, 


D  HUM-TAPS.  43 

I  faithfully  loved  you  and  cared  for  you  living  —  I  think 

we  shall  surely  meet  again;) 
Till  at  latest  lingering  of  the  night,  indeed  just  as  the 

dawn  appear' d, 
My  comrade  I  wrapt  in  his  blanket,  envelop' d  well  his 

form, 
Folded  the  blanket  well,  tucking  it  carefully  over  head, 

and  carefully  under  feet ; 
And  there  and  then,  and  bathed  by  the  rising  sun,  my 

son   in   his  grave,  in  his  rude-dug  grave  I  de- 
posited ; 
Ending  my  vigil  strange  with  that  —  vigil  of  night  and 

battle-field  dim ; 
Vigil  for  boy  of  responding  kisses,  (never  again  on  earth 

responding ; ) 
Vigil  for  comrade  swiftly  slain  —  vigil  I  never  forget, 

how  as  day  brighten' d, 
I  rose  from  the  chill  ground,  and  folded  my  soldier  well 

in  his  blanket, 
And  buried  him  where  he  fell. 


BATHED   IN  WAR'S  PERFUME. 

BATHED  in  war's  perfume  —  delicate  flag! 

O  to  hear  you  call  the  sailors  and  the  soldiers !  flag  like 

a  beautiful  woman ! 
O  to  hear  the  tramp,  tramp,  of  a  million  answering  men ! 

O  the  ships  they  arm  with  joy ! 
O  to  see  you  leap  and  beckon  from  the  tall  masts  of 

ships ! 

O  to  see  you  peering  down  on  the  sailors  on  the  decks ! 
Flag  like  the  eyes  of  women. 


44  DRUM-TAPS. 

A    MARCH    IN    THE    RANKS    HARD-PREST, 
AND    THE  ROAD  UNKNOWN. 


A  MARCH  in  the  ranks  hard-prest,  and  the  road  unknown ; 
A  route  through  a  heavy  wood,  with  muffled  steps  in  the 

darkness ; 
Our  army  foil'd  with  loss  severe,  and  the  sullen  remnant 

retreating ; 
Till  after  midnight  glimmer  upon  us,  the  lights  of  a 

dim-lighted  building ; 
We  come  to  an  open  space  in  the  woods,  and  halt  by  the 

dim-lighted  building ; 
'Tis  a  large  old  church,  at  the  crossing  roads  —  'tis  now 

an  impromptu  hospital ; 
—  Entering  but  for  a  minute,  I  see  a  sight  beyond  all 

the  pictures  and  poems  ever  made  : 
Shadows  of  deepest,  deepest  black,  just  lit  by  moving 

candles  and  lamps, 
And  by  one  great  pitchy  torch,  stationary,  with  wild  red 

flame,  and  clouds  of  smoke  ; 
By  these,  crowds,  groups  of  forms,  vaguely  I  see,  on  the 

floor,  some  in  the  pews  laid  down  : 
At   my   feet  more  distinctly,  a  soldier,  a  mere  lad,    in 

danger  of  bleeding  to  death,  (he  is  shot  in  the  ab- 
domen ; ) 
I  staunch  the  blood  temporarily,  (the  youngster's  face  is 

white  as  a  lily  ; ) 
Then  before  I  depart  I  sweep  my  eyes  o'er  the  scene, 

fain  to  absorb  it  all ; 
Faces,   varieties,  postures  beyond  description,  most  in 

obscurity,  some  of  them  dead ; 
Surgeons  operating,  attendants  holding  lights,  the  smell 

of  ether,  the  odor  of  blood ; 


DRUM-TAPS.  45 

The  crowd,  O  the  crowd  of  the  bloody  forms  of  soldiers 

—  the  yard  outside  also  fill'd ; 
Some  on  the  bare  ground,  some  on  planks  or  stretchers, 

some  in  the  death-spasm  sweating ; 
An  occasional  scream  or  cry,  the  doctor's  shouted  orders 

or  calls ; 
The  glisten  of  the  little  steel  instruments  catching  the 

flint  of  the  torches  ; 
resume  as  I  chant  —  I  see  again  the  forms,  I 

smell  the  odor ; 
Then   hear   outside   the  orders  given,  Fall  in,  my  men, 

Fall  in  • 
But  first  I  bend  to  the  dying  lad  —  his  eyes  open  —  a 

half-smile  gives  he  me  ; 
Then  the  eyes  close,  calmly  close,  and  I  speed  forth  to 

the  darkness, 
Resuming,  marching,  as  ever  in  darkness  marching,  on 

in  the  ranks, 
The  unknown  road  still  marching. 


LONG,  TOO  LONG,  O  LAND. 

LONG,  too  long,  O  land, 

Traveling  roads  all  even  and  peaceful,  you  learn' d  from 
joys  and  prosperity  only  ; 

But  now,  ah  now,  to  learn  from  crises  of  anguish  —  ad- 
vancing, grappling  with  direst  fate,  and  recoiling 
not; 

And  now  to  conceive,  and  show  to  the  world,  what  your 
children  en-masse  really  are  ; 

(For  who  except  myself  has  yet  conceived  what  your 
children  en-masse  really  are  *?) 


46  DRUM-TAPS. 

A    SIGHT   IN    CAMP    IN    THE    DAY-BREAK 
GREY   AND    DIM. 


1  A  SIGHT  in  camp  in  the  day-break  grey  and  dim, 
As  from  my  tent  I  emerge  so  early,  sleepless, 

As  slow  I  walk  in  the  cool  fresh  ah*,  the  path  near  by 

the  hospital-tent, 
Three  forms  I  see  on  stretchers  lying,  brought  out  there, 

untended  lying, 
Over  each  the  blanket  spread,  ample  brownish  woolen 

blanket, 
Grey  and  heavy  blanket,  folding,  covering  all. 

2  Curious,  I  halt,  and  silent  stand ; 

Then  with  light  fingers  I  from  the  face  of  the  nearest, 

the  first,  just  lift  the  blanket : 
Who  are  you,  elderly  man  so  gaunt  and  grim,  with 

well-grey' d  hair,  and  flesh  all  sunken  about  the 

eyes'? 
Who  are  you,  my  dear  comrade  ? 

3     Then  to  the  second  I  step  —  And  who  are  you,  my 

child  and  darling  ? 
Who  are  you,  sweet  boy,  with  cheeks  yet  blooming  ? 

*  Then  to  the  third  —  a  face  nor  child,  nor  old,  very 
calm,  as  of  beautiful  yellow- white  ivory  : 

Young  man,  I  think  I  know  you  —  I  think  this  face  of 
yours  is  the  face  of  the  Christ  himself; 

Dead  and  divine,  and  brother  of  all,  and  here  again  he 
lies. 


A  FARM  PICTURE. 

THROUGH  the  ample  open  door  of  the  peaceful  country 

barn, 
A  sun-lit  pasture  field,  with  cattle  and  horses  feeding. 


DRUM-TAPS.  47 

GIVE  ME  THE  SPLENDID  SILENT 

SUN. 


GIVE  me  the  splendid  silent  sun,  with  all  his  beams  full- 
dazzling  ; 
Give  me  juicy  autumnal  fruit,  ripe  and  red  from  the 

orchard ; 

Give  me  a  field  where  the  nnmow'd  grass  grows ; 
Give  me  an  arbor,  give  me  the  trellis' d  grape  ; 
Give  me  fresh  corn  and  wheat  —  give  me  serene-moving 

animals,  teaching  content ; 
Give  me  nights  perfectly  quiet,  as  on  high  plateaus  west 

of  the  Mississippi,  and  I  looking  up  at  the  stars  ; 
Give  me  odorous  at  sunrise  a  garden  of  beautiful  flowers, 

where  I  can  walk  undisturb'd  ; 
Give  me  for  marriage  a  sweet-breath' d  woman,  of  whom 

I  should  never  tire  ; 
Give  me  a  perfect  child  —  give  me,  away,  aside  from  the 

noise  of  the  world,  a  rural  domestic  life  ; 
Give  me  to  warble  spontaneous  songs,  reliev'd,  recluse 

by  myself,  for  my  own  ears  only ; 
Give  me  solitude  —  give  me  Nature  —  give  me  again, 

O  Nature,  your  primal  sanities ! 
—  These,  demanding  to  have  them,  (tired  with  ceaseless 

excitement,  and  rack'd  by  the  war-strife;) 
These  to  procure,  incessantly  asking,  rising  in  cries  from 

my  heart, 

While  yet  incessantly  asking,  still  I  adhere  to  my  city  ; 
Day  upon  day,   and  year  upon  year,   O  city,  walking 

your  streets, 
Where  you  hold  me  enchain' d  a  certain  time,  refusing 

to  give  me  up ; 
Yet  giving  to  make  me  glutted,  enrich' d  of  soul  —  you 

give  me  forever  faces  ; 


48  DRUM-TAPS. 

(O  I  see  what  I  sought  to  escape,  confronting,  reversing 

my  cries ; 
I  see  my  own  soul  trampling  down  what  it  ask'd  for.) 


Keep  your  splendid  silent  sun  ; 

Keep  your  woods,  O  Nature,  and  the  quiet  places  by 
the  woods ; 

Keep  your  fields  of  clover  and  timothy,  and  your  corn- 
fields and  orchards ; 

Keep  the  blossoming  buckwheat  fields,  where  the  Ninth- 
month  bees  hum ; 

Give  me  faces  and  streets  !  give  me  these  phantoms  in- 
cessant and  endless  along  the  trottoirs  ! 

Give  me  interminable  eyes  !  give  me  women  !  give  me 
comrades  and  lovers  by  the  thousand ! 

Let  me  see  new  ones  every  day  !  let  me  hold  new  ones 
by  the  hand  every  day ! 

Give  me  such  shows !  give  me  the  streets  of  Manhattan ! 

Give  me  Broadway,  with  the  soldiers  marching  —  give 
me  the  sound  of  the  trumpets  and  drums  ! 

(The  soldiers  in  companies  or  regiments  —  some,  starting 
away,  flush' d  and  reckless ; 

Some,  their  time  up,  returning,  with  thinn'd  ranks  — 
young,  yet  very  old,  worn,  marching,  noticing 
nothing;) 

—  Give  me  the  shores  and  the  wharves  heavy-fringed 
with  the  black  ships  ! 

O  such  for  me !  O  an  intense  life  1  O  full  to  repletion, 
and  varied  ! 

The  life  of  the  theatre,  bar-room,  huge  hotel,  for  me ! 

The  saloon  of  the  steamer!  the  crowded  excursion  for 
me  !  the  torch-light  procession  ! 

The  dense  brigade,  bound  for  the  war,  with  high  piled 
military  wagons  following ; 

People,  endless,  streaming,  with  strong  voices,  passions, 
pageants ; 

Manhattan  streets,  with  their  powerful  throbs,  with  the 
beating  drums,  as  now ; 


DRUM-TAPS.  49 

The  endless  and  noisy  chorus,  the  rustle  and  clank  of 
muskets,  (even  the  sight  of  the  wounded;) 

Manhattan  crowds  with  their  turbulent  musical  chorus 
—  with  varied  chorus  and  light  of  the  sparkling 
eyes; 

Manhattan  faces  and  eyes  forever  for  me. 


OVER  THE  CARNAGE  ROSE  PROPHETIC 
A  VOICE. 


1  OVER  the  carnage  rose  prophetic  a  voice, 

Be  not  dishearten' d — Affection  shall  solve  the  problems 

of  Freedom  yet ; 
Those  who  love  each  other  shall  become  invincible  — 

they  shall  yet  make  Columbia  victorious. 

2  Sons  of  the  Mother  of  All !  you  shall  yet  be  victo- 

rious 1 

You  shall  yet  laugh  to  scorn  the  attacks  of  all  the  re- 
mainder of  the  earth. 

3  No  danger  shall  balk  Columbia's  lovers ; 

If  need  be,  a  thousand  shall  sternly  immolate  themselves 
for  one. 

*  One  from  Massachusetts  shall  be  a  Missouriari's  com- 
rade ; 

From  Maine  and  from  hot  Carolina,  and  another  an  Ore- 
gonese,  shall  be  friends  triune, 

More  precious  to  each  other  than  all  the  riches  of  the 
earth. 


50  DRUM-TAPS. 

5    To  Michigan,  Florida  perfumes  shall  tenderly  come  ; 
Not  the  perfumes  of  flowers,  but  sweeter,  and  wafted 
beyond  death. 

e    It  shall  be  customary  in  the  houses  and  streets  to  see 

manly  affection ; 
The  most  dauntless  and  rude  shall  touch  face  to    face 

lightly; 

The  dependence  of  Liberty  shall  be  lovers, 
The  continuance  of  Equality  shall  be  comrades. 

7  These  shall  tie  you  and  band  you  stronger  than  hoops 

of  iron; 

I,  extatic,  O  partners !   O  lands !  with  the  love  of  lovers 
tie  you. 

8  Were  you  looking  to  be  held  together  by  the  lawyers  ? 
Or  by  an  agreement  on  a  paper  1  or  by  arms  ? 

, —  Nay  —  nor  the  world,  nor  any  living  thing,  will  so 
cohere. 


DlD  YOU   ASK   DULCET   RHYMES   FROM   ME? 


DID  YOU  ask  dulcet  rhymes  from  me  ? 

Did  you  find  what  I   sang  erewhile  so  hard  to  follow, 

to  understand? 
Why  I  was  not  singing  erewhile  for  you  to  follow,  to 

understand  —  nor  am  I  now ; 
—  What  to   such   as   you,  anyhow,  such  a  poet  as  I  ? 

—  therefore  leave  my  works, 

And  go  lull  yourself  with  what  you  can  understand ; 
For  t  lull  nobody  —  and  you  will  never  understand  me. 


DRUM-TAPS.  51 


YEAR  OF  METEORS. 

(1859-60.) 


YEAR  of  meteors  !  brooding  year ! 

I  would  bind  in  words  retrospective,  some  of  your  deeds 

and  signs ; 

I  would  sing  your  contest  for  the  19th  Presidentiad ; 
I  would  sing  how  an  old  man,  tall,   with  white  hair, 

mounted  the  scaffold  in  Virginia ; 
(I  was  at  hand  —  silent  I  stood,  with  teeth  shut  close  —  I 

watch' d; 

I  stood  very  near  you,  old  man,  when  cool  and  indiffer- 
ent, but  trembling  with  age  and  your  unheard 
wounds,  you  mounted  the  scaffold;) 
I  would  sing  in  my  copious  song  your  census  returns  of 

The  States, 
The  tables  of  population  and  products  —  I  would  sing  of 

your  ships  and  their  cargoes, 

The   proud  black   ships  of  Manhattan,  arriving,  some 
fill'd  with  immigrants,  some  from   the   isthmus 
with  cargoes  of  gold ; 
Songs  thereof  would  I    sing  —  to    all   that   hitherward 

comes  would  I  welcome  give ; 
And  you  would  I  sing,  fair  stripling !  welcome  to  you 

from  me,  sweet  boy  of  England  ! 
Remember  you  surging   Manhattan's   crowds,    as   you 

passed  with  your  cortege  of  nobles  ? 
There  in  the  crowds  stood  I,  and  singled  you  out  with 

attachment ; 
I  know  not  why,  but  I  loved  you  .   .   .  (and  so  go  forth 

little  song, 

Far  over  sea  speed  like  an  arrow,  carrying  my  love  all 
folded, 


•V2  DRUM-TATS. 

And  find  in  his  palace  the  youth  I  love,  and  drop  these 
lines  at  his  feet ;) 

—  Nor  forget  I  to  sing  of  the  wonder,  the  ship  as  she 

swam  up  my  bay, 

Well-shaped  and  stately  the  Great  Eastern  swam  up  my 
bay,  she  was  600  feet  long, 

Her  moving  swiftly,  surrounded  by  myriads  of  small 
craft,  I  forget  not  to  sing ; 

Nor  the  comet  that  came  unannounced,  out  of  the  north, 
flaring  in  heaven, 

Nor  the  strange  huge  meteor  procession,  dazzling  and 
clear,  shooting  over  our  heads, 

(A  moment,  a  moment  long,  it  sail'd  its  balls  of  unearth- 
ly light  over  our  heads, 

Then  departed,  dropt  in  the  night,  and  was  gone;) 

—  Of  such,  and  fitful  as  they,  I  sing  —  with  gleams  from 

them  would  I  gleam  and  patch  these  chants  ; 
Your  chants,  O  year  all  mottled  with  evil  and  good ! 

year  of  forebodings  !  year  of  the  youth  I  love  ! 
Year  of  comets  and  meteors  transient  and  strange  !  — lo ! 

even  here,  one  equally  transient  and  strange  ! 
As  I  flit  through  you  hastily,  soon  to  fall  and  be  gone, 

what  is  this  book, 
What  am  I  myself  but  one  of  your  meteors  ? 


THE  TORCH. 

ON  my  northwest  coast  in  the  midst  of  the  night,  a 
fishermen's  group  stands  watching ; 

Out  on  the  lake,  expanding  before  them,  others  are 
spearing  salmon ; 

The  canoe,  a  dim  and  shadowy  thing,  moves  across  the 
black  water, 

Bearing  a  Torch  a-blaze  at  the  prow. 


DRUM-TAPS.  53 


YEARS  OF  THE  UNPERFORMT>. 


YEARS  of  the  unperform'd  !  your  horizon  rises  —  I  see  it 
parting  away  for  more  august  dramas ; 

I  see  not  America  only  —  I  see  not  only  Liberty's  nation, 
but  other  nations  preparing ; 

I  see  tremendous  entrances  and  exits  —  I  see  new  com- 
binations —  I  see  the  solidarity  of  races ; 

I  see  that  force  advancing  with  irresistible  power  on  the 
world's  stage ; 

(Have  the  old  forces  played  their  parts  ?  are  the  acts 
suitable  to  them  closed  1) 

I  see  Freedom,  completely  arm'd,  arid  victorious,  and 
very  haughty,  with  Law  by  her  side,  both  issuing 
forth  against  the  idea  of  caste  ; 

—  What  historic  denouements  are  these  we  so  rapidly 
approach  ? 

I  see  men  marching  and  countermarching  by  swift  mil- 
lions ; 

I  see  the  frontiers  and  boundaries  of  the  old  aristocracies 
broken ; 

I  see  the  landmarks  of  European  kings  removed  ; 

I  see  this  day  the  People  beginning  their  landmarks,  (all 
others  give  way;) 

Never  were  such  sharp  questions  ask'd  as  this  day; 

Never  was  average  man,  his  soul,  more  energetic,  more 
like  a  God ; 

Lo,  how  he  urges  and  urges,  leaving  the  masses  no 
rest ; 

His  daring  foot  is  on  land  and  sea  everywhere  —  he  col- 
onizes the  Pacific,  the  archipelagoes  ; 

With  the  steam-ship,  the  electric  telegraph,  the  news- 
paper, the  wholesale  engines  of  war, 

With  these,  and  the  world-spreading  factories,  he  inter- 
links all  geography,  all  lands ; 

E* 


54  DKIM-TAPS. 

—  What  whispers  are  these,  O  lands,  running  ahead  of 
you,  passing  under  the  seas  ? 

Are  all  nations  communing  ?  is  there  going  to  be  but 
one  heart  to  the  globe  ? 

Is  humanity  forming,  en-masse  ?  —  for  lo !    tyrants  trem- 
ble, crowns  grow  dim ; 

The  earth,  restive,  confronts  a  new  era,  perhaps  a  gen- 
eral divine  war ; 

No  one  knows  what  will  happen  next  —  such  portents 
fill  the  days  and  nights ; 

Years  prophetical !  the  space  ahead  as  I  walk,  as  I  vain- 
ly try  to  pierce  it,  is  full  of  phantoms  ; 

Unborn  deeds,  things  soon  to  be,  project  their  shapes 
around  me ; 

This  incredible  rush  and  heat  —  this   strange   extactic 
fever  of  dreams,  O  years  I 

Your  dreams,  O  years,  how  they  penetrate  through  me  ! 
(I  know  not  whether  I  sleep  or  wake !) 

The  perform'd  America  and  Europe  grow  dim,  retiring 
in  shadow  behind  me, 

The  unperform'd,  more  gigantic  than  ever,  advance,  ad- 
vance upon  me. 


YEAR  THAT  TREMBLED  AND  REEL'D 
BENEATH  ME. 

YEAR  that  trembled  and  reel'd  beneath  me  ! 

Your  summer  wind  was  warm  enough  —  yet  the  air  I 
breathed  froze  me ; 

A  thick  gloom  fell  through  the  sunshine  and  darken'd 
me ; 

Must  I  change  my  triumphant  songs  ?  said  I  to  myself; 

Must  I  indeed  learn  to  chant  the  cold  dirges  of  the  baf- 
fled? 

And  sullen  hymns  of  defeat  ? 


DRUM-TAPS.  55 


THE    VETERAN'S     VISION. 


WHILE  my  wife  at  ray  side  lies  slumbering,  and  the  wars 

are  over  long, 

And  my  head  on  the  pillow  rests  at  home,  and  the  mys- 
tic midnight  passes, 
And  through  the  stillness,  through  the  dark,  I  hear,  just 

hear,  the  breath  of  my  infant, 
There  in  the  room,  as  I  wake  from  sleep,  this  vision 

presses  upon  me : 
The  engagement  opens  there  and  then,  in  my  busy  brain 

unreal ; 
The  skirmishers  begin  —  they  crawl  cautiously  ahead  — 

I  hear  the  irregular  snap !  snap ! 
I  hear  the  sounds  of  the  different  missiles  —  the  short 

t-h-t  !  t-h-t !  of  the  rifle  balls ; 
I  see  the  shells  exploding,  leaving  small  white  clouds  — 

I  hear  the  great  shells  shrieking  as  they  pass ; 
The  grape,  like  the  hum  and  whirr  of  wind  through  the 

trees,  (quick,  tumultuous,  now  the  contest  rages!) 
All  the  scenes  at  the  batteries  themselves  rise  in  detail 

before  me  again ; 
The  crashing  and  smoking  —  the  pride  of  the  men  in 

their  pieces ; 
The  chief  gunner  ranges  and  sights  his  piece,  and  selects 

a  fuse  of  the  right  time ; 
After  firing,  I  see  him  lean  aside,  and  look  eagerly  off 

to  note  the  effect ; 
—  Elsewhere  I  hear  the  cry  of  a  regiment  charging  — 

(the  young  colonel  leads  himself  this  time,  with 

brandish' d  sword ;) 
I   see   the   gaps   cut  by  the  enemy's  volleys,  (quickly 

fill'd  up  —  no  delay ;) 
I  breathe  the  suffocating  smoke  —  then  the  flat  clouds 

hover  low,  concealing  all ; 


56  DKUM-TAPS. 

Now  a  strange  lull  comes  for  a  few  seconds,  not  a  shot 

fired  on  either  side  ; 
Then  resumed,  the  chaos  louder  than  ever,  with  eager 

calls,  and  orders  of  officers ; 
While  from  some  distant  part  of  the  field  the  wind  wafts 

to  my  ears  a  shout  of  applause,  (some  special 

success ;) 
And  ever  the  sound  of  the  cannon,  far  or  near,  (rousing, 

even  in  dreams,  a  devilish  exultation,  and  all  the 

old  mad  joy,  in  the  depths  of  my  soul;) 
And  ever  the  hastening  of  infantry  shifting  positions  — 

batteries,  cavalry,  moving  hither  and  thither ; 
(The  falling,  dying,  I  heed  not  —  the  wounded,  dripping 

and  red,  I  heed  not  —  some  to  the  rear  are  hob- 
bling;) 
Grime,  heat,  rush  —  aid-de-camps  galloping  by,  or  on  a 

full  run ; 
With  the  patter  of  small  arms,  the  warning  s-s-t  of  the 

rifles,  (these  in  my  vision  I  hear  or  see,) 
And  bombs  bursting  in  air,  and  at  night  the  vari-color'd 

rockets. 


O  TAN-FACED   PRAIRIE-BOY. 

O  TAN-FACED  praiiie-bov ! 

Before  you  came  to  camp,  came  many  a  welcome  gift : 

Praises  and  presents  came,  and  nourishing  food  —  till  at 

last  among  the  recruits, 
You  came,   taciturn,   with  nothing   to   give  —  we   but 

look'd  on  each  other, 
When  lo!    more  than  all  the  gifts  of  the  world,    you 

gave  me. 


DRUM-TAPS.  57 


CAMPS   OF  GREEN. 


1  NOT  alone  our  camps  of  white,  O  soldiers, 
When,  as  order' d  forward,  after  a  long  march, 
Footsore  and  weary,  soon  as  the  light  lessens,  we  halt 

for  the  night ; 
Some  of  us  so  fatigued,  carrying  the  gun  and  knapsack, 

dropping  asleep  in  our  tracks  ; 
Others  pitching  the  little  tents,  and  the  fires  lit  up  begin 

to  sparkle ; 
Outposts  of  pickets  posted,  surrounding,  alert  through 

the  dark, 

And  a  word  provided  for  countersign,  careful  for  safety ; 
Till  to  the  call  of  the  drummers  at   daybreak   loudly 

beating  the  drums, 
We  rise  up  refresh'd,  the  night  and  sleep  pass'd  over, 

and  resume  our  journey, 
Or  proceed  to  battle. 

2  Lo  !  the  camps  of  the  tents  of  green, 

Which  the  days  of  peace  keep  filling,  and  the  days  of 

war  keep  filling, 
With  a  mystic  army,  (is  it  too  order' d  forward  ?  is  it  too 

only  halting  awhile, 
Till  night  and  sleep  pass  over  T) 

•^  Now  in  those  camps  of  green  —  in  their  tents  dotting 
the  world ; 

In  the  parents,  children,  husbands,  wives,  in  them  — 
in  the  old  and  young, 

Sleeping  under  the  sunlight,  sleeping  under  the  moon- 
light, content  and  silent  there  at  last, 

Behold  the  mighty  bivouac-field,  and  waiting-camp  of 
us  and  ours  and  all, 


58  DRUM-TAPS. 

Of  our  corps  and  generals  all,  and  the  President  over  the 

corps  and  generals  all, 
And  of  each  of  us,  O  soldiers,  and  of  each  and  all  in  the 

ranks  we  fight, 
(There  without  hatred  we  shall  all  meet.) 

*    For  presently,  O  soldiers,  we  too  camp  in  our  place 

in  the  bivouac-camps  of  green  ; 
But  we  need  not  provide  for  outposts,  nor  word  for 

the  countersign, 
Nor  drummer  to  beat  the  morning  drum. 


As    TOILSOME    I    WANDER'D    VIRGINIA'S 
WOODS. 


i    As  TOILSOME  I  wander' d  Virginia's  woods, 
To  the  music  of  rustling  leaves,  kick'd  by  my  feet,  (for 
'twas  autumn,) 

1  mark'd  at  the  foot  of  a  tree  the  grave  of  a  soldier ; 
Mortally  wounded  he,  and  buried  on  the  retreat,  (easily 

all  could  I  understand ;) 
The  halt  of  a  mid-day  hour,  when  up !  no  time  to  lose 

—  yet  this  sign  left, 

On  a  tablet  scrawl' d  and  nail'd  on  the  tree  by  the  grave, 
Bold,  cautious,  true,  and  my  loving  comrade. 

2  Long,  long  I  muse,  then  on  my  way  go  wandering ; 
Many  a  chanceful  season  to  follow,  and  many  a  scene  of 

life; 
Yet  at  times  through  changeful  season  and  scene,  abrupt, 

alone,  or  in  the  crowded  street, 
Comes  before  me  the  unknown  soldier's  grave  —  comes 

the  inscription  rude  in  Virginia's  woods, 
Bold,  cautious,  true,  and  my  loving  comrade. 


DRUM-TAPS.  59 


HYMN   OF   DEAD  SOLDIERS. 


1  ONE  breath,  O  my  silent  soul, 

A  perfum'd  thought  —  no  more  I  ask,  for  the  sake  of  all 
dead  soldiers. 

2  Buglers  off  in  my  armies ! 

At  present  I  ask  not  you  to  sound ; 

Not  at  the  head  of  my  cavalry,  all  on  their  spirited 
horses, 

With  their  sabres  drawn  and  glist'ning,  and  carbines 
clanking  by  their  thighs  —  (ah,  my  brave  horse- 
men! 

My  handsome,  tan-faced  horsemen !  what  life,  what  joy 
and  pride, 

With  all  the  perils,  were  yours  !) 

3  Nor  you  drummers  —  neither  at  reveille,  at  dawn, 
Nor  the  long  roll  alarming  the  camp  —  nor  even  the 

muffled  beat  for  a  burial ; 

Nothing  from  you,  this  time,  O  drummers,  bearing  my 
warlike  drums. 

*    But  aside  from  these,  and  the  crowd's  hurrahs,  and 

the  land's  congratulations, 
Admitting   around  me  comrades  close,  unseen  by  the 

the  rest,  and  voiceless, 
I  chant  this  chant  of  my  silent  soul,  in  the  name  of  all 

dead  soldiers. 

5    Faces  so  pale,  with  wondrous  eyes,  very  dear,  gather 

closer  yet ; 
Draw  close,  but  speak  not. 


60  DRUM-TAPS. 

e    Phantoms,  welcome,  divine  and  tender ! 
Invisible   to   the  rest,   henceforth  become  my  compan- 
ions ; 
Follow  me  ever !  desert  me  not,  while  I  live. 

7    Sweet  are  the  blooming  cheeks  of  the  living !    sweet 

are  the  musical  voices  sounding  ! 
But  sweet,  ah  sweet,  are  the  dead,  with  their  silent  eyes. 

s    Dearest  comrades  !  all  now  is  over ; 
But  love  is  not  over  —  and  what  love,  O  comrades  ! 
Perfume    from    battle-fields    rising  —  up    from    fcetor 
arising. 

9  Perfume  therefore  my  chant,  O  love !  immortal  Love  I 
Give  me  to  bathe  the  memories  of  all  dead  soldiers. 

10  Perfume  all !  make  all  wholesome ! 

O  love !  O  chant !  solve  all  with  the  last  chemistry. 

n    Give  me  exhaustless  —  make  me  a  fountain, 
That  I  exhale  love  from  me  wherever  I  go, 
For  the  sake  of  all  dead  soldiers. 


THE  SHIP. 

Lo  I  THE  unbounded  sea ! 

On  its  breast  a  Ship,  spreading  all  her  sails  —  an  ample 

Ship,  carrying  even  her  moonsails ; 
The    pennant    is    flying    aloft,    as    she     speeds,     she 

speeds  so  stately  —  below,  emulous  waves  press 

forward, 
They  surround  the  Ship,  with  shining  curving  motions, 

and  foam. 


A  BROADWAY   PAGEANT, 

(RECEPTION  JAPANESE  EMBASSY,  JUNE  16,  1860.) 


1  OVER  sea,  hither  from  Niphon, 

Courteous,  the  Princes  of  Asia,  swart-cheek' d  princes, 
First-comers,  guests,  two-sworded  princes, 
Lesson-giving  princes,  leaning  back  in  their  open  ba- 
rouches, bare-headed,  impassive, 
This  day  they  ride  through  Manhattan. 

2  Libertad ! 

I  do  not  know  whether  others  behold  what  I  behold, 
In  the  procession,  along  with  the  Princes  of  Asia,  the 

errand-bearers, 
Bringing  up  the  rear,  hovering  above,  around,  or  in  the 

ranks  marching ; 
But  I  will  sing  you  a  song  of  what  I  behold,  Libertad. 

3  When  million-footed  Manhattan,  unpent,  descends  to 

its  pavements ; 
When  the  thunder-cracking  guns  arouse  me  with  the 

proud  roar  I  love  ; 
When  the  round-mouth'd  guns,  out  of  the  smoke  and 

smell  I  love,  spit  their  salutes  ; 
When  the  fire-flashing  guns    have  fully  alerted  me  — 

when    heaven-clouds    canopy    my   city    with   a 

delicate  thin  haze ; 

When,  gorgeous,  the  countless  straight  stems,  the  for- 
ests at  the  wharves,  thicken  with  colors ; 
When  every  ship,  richly  drest,  carries  her  flag  at  the 

peak; 
When  pennants  trail,  and  street-festoons  hang  from  the 

windows ; 

P  (61) 


62  DRUM-TAPS. 

WTien  Broadway  is  entirely  given  up  to  foot-passengers 

and  foot-standers  —  when  the  mass  is  densest ; 
When  the  facades  of  the  houses  are  alive  with  people  — 

when  eyes  gaze,  riveted,  tens  of  thousands  at  a 

time; 
When  the  guests  from  the  islands  advance  —  when  the 

pageant  moves  forward,  visible  ; 
When  the  summons  is  made  —  when  the  answer  that 

waited  thousands  of  years,  answers  ; 
I  too,   arising,  answering,   descend   to   the   pavements, 

merge  with  the  crowd,  and  gaze  with  them. 

*    Superb-faced  Manhattan ! 

Comrade  Americanos !  —  to  us,  then,  at  last,  the  Orient 
comes. 

5    To  us,  my  city, 

Where  our  tall-topt  marble  and  iron  beauties  range  on 

opposite  sides  —  to  walk  in  the  space  between, 
To-day  our  Antipodes  comes. 

e    The  Originatress  comes, 

The  land  of  Paradise  —  land  of  the  Caucasus  —  the  nest 

of  birth, 
The   nest   of  languages,    the  bequeather  of  poems,  the 

race  of  eld, 
Florid  with  blood,  pensive,  rapt  with  musings,  hot  with 

passion, 

Sultry  with  perfume,  with  ample  and  flowing  garments, 
With  sunburnt  visage,  with  intense  soul  and  glittering 

eyes. 
The  race  of  Brahma  comes ! 

?    See,  my  cantabile  I  these,  and  more,  are  flashing  to  us 

from  the  procession ; 
As  it  moves,  changing,  a  kaleidoscope  divine  it  moves, 

changing,  before  us. 

«    Not  the  errand-bearing  princes,  nor  the  tann'd  Japa- 
nee  only ; 


DRUM-TAPS.  63 

Lithe  and  silent,  the  Hindoo  appears  —  the  whole  Asiatic 
continent  itself  appears  —  the  Past,  the  dead, 

The  murky  night-morning  of  wonder  and  fable,  inscruta- 
ble, 

The  envelop' d  mysteries,  the  old  and  unknown  hive- 
bees, 

The  North  —  the  sweltering  South  —  Assyria  —  the 
Hebrews  —  the  Ancient  of  ancients, 

Vast  desolated  •  cities  —  the  gliding  Present  —  all  of 
these,  and  more,  are  in  the  pageant-procession. 

9    Geography,  the  world,  is  in  it ; 

The  Great  Sea,  the  brood  of  islands,  Polynesia,  the  coast 

beyond  ; 
The  coast  you,  henceforth,  are  facing  —  you  Libertad! 

from  your  Western  golden  shores  ; 
The  countries  there,  with  their  populations — the  mil- 
lions en-masse,  are  curiously  here  ; 
The  swarming  market  places  —  the  temples,  with  idols 

ranged  along  the  sides,  or  at  the  end  —  bonze, 

brahmin,  and  lama ; 

The  mandarin,  farmer,  merchant,  mechanic,  and  fisher- 
man ; 
The   singing-girl    and    the    dancing-girl  —  the    ecstatic 

person  —  the  divine  Buddha  ; 
The    secluded    Emperors  —  Confucius    himself  —  the 

great  poets  and  heroes  —  the  warriors,  the  castes, 

all, 
Trooping  up,  crowding  from  all  directions  —  from  the 

Altay  mountains, 
From  Thibet  —  from  the  four  winding  and  far-flowing 

rivers  of  China, 
From  the  Southern  peninsulas,  and  the  demi-continental 

islands  —  from  Malaysia ; 
These,  and  whatever  belongs  to  them,  palpable,  show 

forth  to  me,  and  are  seiz'd  by  me, 
And  I  am  seiz'd  by  them,  and  friendlily  held  by  them, 
Till,  as  here,  them  all  I  chant,  Libertad !  for  themselves 

and  for  vou. 


64  DRUM-TAP.-. 

10  For  I  too,  raising  my  voice,  join  the  ranks  of  this 

pageant : 

I  am  the  chanter  —  I  chant  aloud  over  the  pageant ; 

I  chant  the  world  on  my  Western  Sea ; 

I  chant,  copious,  the  islands  beyond,  thick  as  stars  in 
the  sky ; 

I  chant  the  new  empire,  grander  than  any  before  —  As 
in  a  vision  it  comes  to  me; 

I  chant  America,  the  Mistress  —  I  chant  a  greater  su- 
premacy ; 

I  chant,  projected,  a  thousand  blooming  cities  yet,  in 
time,  on  those  groups  of  sea-islands ; 

I  chant  my  sail-ships  and  steam-ships  threading  the  ar- 
chipelagoes ; 

I  chant  my  stars  and  stripes  fluttering  in  the  wind ; 

I  chant  commerce  opening,  the  sleep  of  ages  having 
done  its  work  —  races,  reborn,  refreshed  ; 

Lives,  works,  resumed  —  The  object  I  know  not  — but 
the  old,  the  Asiatic,  resumed,  as  it  must  be, 

Commencing  from  this  day,  surrounded  by  the  world. 

11  And  you,  Libertad  of  the  world ! 

You  shall  sit  in  the  middle,  well-pois'd,  thousands  of 
years  ; 

As  to-day,  from  one  side,  the  Princes  of  Asia  come  to 
you ; 

As  to-morrow,  from  the  other  side,  the  Queen  of  Eng- 
land sends  her  eldest  son  to  you. 

12  The  sign  is  reversing,  the  orb  is  enclosed, 
The  ring  is  circled,  the  journey  is  done ; 

The  box-lid  is  but  perceptibly  opeird  —  nevertheless  the 
perfume  pours  copiously  out  of  the  whole  box. 

13  Young  Libertad ! 

With  the  venerable  Asia,  the  all-mother, 
Be  considerate  with  her,  now  and  ever,  hot  Libertad  — 
for  you  are  all ; 


DRUM-TAPS.  05 

Bend  your  proud  neck  to  the   long-off  mother,    now 
sending  messages  over  the  archipelagoes  to  you  ; 
Bend  your  proud  neck  low  for  once,  young  Libertad. 

i*  Were  the  children  straying  westward  so  long1?  so 
wide  the  tramping? 

Were  the  precedent  dim  ages  debouching  westward 
from  Paradise  so  long  ? 

Were  the  centuries  steadily  footing  it  that  way,  all  the 
while  unknown,  for  you,  for  reasons  ? 

They  are  justified  — they  are  accomplish' d  —  they  shall 
now  be  turn'd  the  other  way  also,  to  travel  to- 
ward you  thence ; 

They  shall  now  also  march  obediently  eastward,  for 
your  sake,  Libertad. 


FLAG   OF   STARS,   THICK-SPRINKLED 
BUNTING. 

FLAG  of  stars  !  thick-sprinkled  bunting ! 

Long  yet  your  road,  fateful  flag !  —  long  yet  your  road, 

and  lined  with  bloody  death ! 
For  the  prize  I  see  at  issue,  at  last  is  the  world ! 
All  its  ships  and  shores  I  see,  interwoven   with   your 

threads,  greedy  banner ! 
—  Dream' d   again  the  flags  of  kings,  highest  borne,  to 

flaunt  unrrvaird? 
O   hasten,  flag  of  man !  O  with  sure  and  steady  step, 

passing  highest  flags  of  kings, 
Walk  supreme  to  the  heavens,  mighty  symbol  —  run  up 

above  them  all, 
Flag  of  stars !  thick  sprinkled  bunting ! 


66  DRUM-TAPS. 

OLD     IRELAND. 

1  FAR  hence,  amid  an  isle  of  wondrous  beauty, 
Crouching  over  a  grave,  an  ancient  sorrowful  mother, 
Once  a  queen  —  now  lean  and  tatter' d,  seated  on  the 

ground, 

Her  old  white  hair  drooping  disheveP.d  round  her  shoul- 
ders ; 

At  her  feet  fallen  an  unused  royal  harp, 

Long  silent  —  she  too  long  silent  —  mourning  her  shroud- 
ed hope  and  heir ; 

Of  all  the  earth  her  heart  most  full  of  sorrow,  because 
most  full  of  love. 

2  Yet  a  word,  ancient  mother ; 

You  need  crouch  there  no  longer  on  the  cold  ground, 

with  forehead  between  your  knees  ; 
O  you   need  not  sit    there,  veil'd    in   your    old  white 

hair,  so  dishevel' d  ; 

For  know  you,  the  one  you  mourn  is  not  in  that  grave ; 
It  was  an  illusion  —  the  heir,  the  son  you  love,  was  not 

really  dead ; 
The  Lord  is  not  dead  —  he  is  risen  again,  young  and 

strong,  in  another  country  ; 
Even  while  you  wept  there  by  your  fallen  harp,  by  the 

grave, 
What  you  wept  for,  was  translated,   pass'd  from    the 

^grave, 

The  winds  favor' d,  and  the  sea  sail'd  it, 
And  now  with  rosy  and  new  blood, 
Moves  to-day  in  a  new  country. 


LOOK  DOWN    FAIR    MOON. 

LOOK  down,  fair  moon,  and  bathe  this  scene ; 
Pour  softly  down  night's  nimbus  floods,  on  faces  ghast- 
ly, swollen,  purple ; 

On  the  dead,  on  their  backs,  with  their  arms  toss'd  wide, 
Pour  down  your  unstinted  nimbus,  sacred  moon. 


DRUM-TAPS.  67 

OUT  OF  THE   ROLLING    OCEAN,  THE 
CROWD. 


1 
OUT  of  the  rolling  ocean,  the  crowd,  came  a  drop  gently 

to   me, 

Whispering,  /  love  you,  before  long  I  die, 
I  have  travel 'd  a  long  way,  merely  to  look  on  you,  to  touch  you, 
For  I  could  not  die  till  I  once  looked  on  you, 
For  I  fear1  d  I  might  afterward  lose  you. 

2 

(Now  we  have  met,  we  have  look'd,  we  are  safe ; 

Return  in  peace  to  the  ocean  my  love  ; 

I  too  am  part  of  that  ocean,  my  love  —  we  are  not  so 
much  separated ; 

Behold  the  great  rondure  —  the  cohesion  of  all,  how  per- 
fect! 

But  as  for  me,  for  you,  the  irresistible  sea  is  to  separ- 
ate us, 

As  for  an  hour  carrying  us  diverse  —  yet  cannot  carry 
us  diverse  for  ever  ; 

Be  not  impatient  —  a  little  space  —  know  you,  I  salute 
the  air,  the  ocean  and  the  land, 

Every  day,  at  sundown,  for  your  dear  sake,  my  love.) 


WORLD,  TAKE  GOOD  NOTICE. 

WORLD,  take  good  notice,  silver  stars  fading, 
Milky  hue  ript,  weft  of  white  detaching, 
Coals  thirty-six,  baleful  and  burning, 
Scarlet,  significant,  hands  off  warning, 
Now  and  henceforth  flaunt  from  these  shores. 


68  DKUM-TAI-S. 


I  SAW  OLD   GENERAL    AT   BAY. 

I  SAW  old  General  at  bay ; 

(Old   as   he    was,  his   grey  eyes  yet  shone  out  in  bnttle 

like  stars ; ) 
His  small  force  was  now  completely  hemmed  in,  in  his 

works ; 
He  call'd  for  volunteers  to  run  the  enemy's   lines  —  a 

desperate  emergency ; 
I  saw  a  hundred  and  more  step  forth  from  the  ranks  — 

but  two  or  three  were  selected ; 
I  saw  them  receive  their   orders  aside  —  they   listen' d 

with  care  —  the  adjutant  was  very  grave  ; 
I  saw  them  depart  with  cheerfulness,  freely  risking  their 

lives. 


OTHERS   MAY   PRAISE   WHAT    THEY   LIKE. 

OTHERS  may  praise  what  they  like  ; 

But  I,  from  the  banks  of  the  running  Missouri,   praise 

nothing,  in  art,  or  aught  else, 
Till  it  has  breathed  well  the  atmosphere  of  this  river  — 

also  the  western  prairie-scent, 
And  fully  exudes  it  again. 


SOLID,  IRONICAL,  ROLLING   ORB. 

SOLID,  ironical,  rolling  orb  ! 

Master  of  all,  and  matter  of  fact !  — at  last  I  accept  your 

terms ; 
Bringing  to   practical,   vulgar  tests,    of  all   my    ideal 

dreams, 
And  of  me,  as  lover  and  hero. 


DRUM-TAPS.  69 

HUSH'D  BE  THE  CAMPS  TO-DAY. 

A.  L.  BuarED  APRIL  19,  1865. 

1  HUSH'D  be  the  camps  to-day  ; 

And,  soldiers,  let  us  drape  our  war-worn  weapons  ; 
Arid  each,  with  musing  soul  retire,  to  celebrate, 
Our  dear  commander's  death. 

2  No  more  for  him  life's  stormy  conflicts  ; 

Nor  victory,  nor  defeat  —  No  more  time's  dark  events, 
Charging  like  ceaseless  clouds  across  the  sky. 

»    But  sing,  poet,  in  our  name  ; 

Sing  of  the  love  we  bore  him  —  because  you,  dweller  in 
camps,  know  it  truly. 

4    Sing,  to  the  lower'  d  coffin  there  ; 

Sing,  with  the  shovel'd   clods   that  fill  the  grave  —  a 

verse, 
For  the  heavy  hearts  of  soldiers. 


WEAVE  IN,  WEAVE  IN,  MY  HARDY  LIFE. 

WEAVE  in  !  Aveave  in,  my  hardy  life  ! 

Weave,  weave  a  soldier  strong  and  full,  for  great  cam- 

paigns to  come  ; 
Weave  in  red  blood  !  weave  sinews  in,  like  ropes  !  the 

senses,  sight  weave  in  ! 
Weave  lasting  sure  !   weave  day  and  night  the  weft,  the 

warp  !  incessant  weave  !  tire  not  ! 
(We  know  not  what  the  use,  O  life  !   nor  know  the  aim, 

the  end  —  nor  really  aught  we  know  ; 
But  know  the  work,  the  need  goes  on,   and  shall  go 

on  —  the  death-envelop'  d  march  of  peace  as  well 

as  war,  goes  on;) 
For    great   campaigns   of   peace  the    same,    the    wiry 

threads  to  weave  ; 
We  know  not  why  or  what,  yet  weave,  forever  weave. 


70  DRUM-TAPS. 

TURN    O    LIBERTAD. 

TURN,  O  Libertad,  no  more  doubting ; 

Turn  from  lands  retrospective,  recording  proofs  of  the 

past; 
From  the  singers  that  sing  the  trailing  glories  of  the 

past ; 
From  the  chants  of  the  feudal  world  —  the  triumphs  of 

kings,  slavery,  caste ; 
Turn  to  the  world,  the  triumphs  reserv'd  and  to  come  — 

give  up  that  backward  world ; 
Leave  to  the  singers  of  hitherto  —  give  them  the  trailing 

past : 
But  what  remains,  remains  for  singers  for  you  —  wars 

to  come  are  for  you ; 
(Lo !  how  the  wars  of  the  past  have  duly  inured  to  you 

—  and  the  wars  of  the  present  shall  also  inure  :) 
—  Then  turn,  and  be  not   alarm' d,  O  Libertad  —  turn 

your  undying  face, 

To  where  the  future,  greater  than  all  the  past, 
Is  swiftly,  surely  preparing  for  you. 


BIVOUAC    ON    A     MOUNTAIN    SIDE. 

I  SEE  before  me  now,  a  traveling  army  halting ; 

Below,  a  fertile  valley  spread,  with  bams,  and  the  orch- 
ards of  summer ; 

Behind,  the  terraced  sides  of  a  mountain,  abrupt  in 
places,  rising  high ; 

Broken,  with  rocks,  with  clinging  cedars,  with  tall 
shapes,  dingily  seen ; 

The  numerous  camp-fires  scatter'd  near  and  far,  some 
away  up  on  the  mountain  ; 

The  shadowy  forms  of  men  and  horses,  looming,  large- 
sized,  nickering; 

And  over  all,  the  sky  —  the  sky !  far,  far  out  of  reach, 
studded  with  the  eternal  stars. 


DRUM-TAPS.  71 

PENSIVE   ON  HER  DEAD  GAZING,  I   HEARD 
THE  MOTHER  OF  ALL. 


PENSIVE,  on  her  dead  gazing,  I  heard  the  Mother  of  All, 
Desperate,  on  the  torn  bodies,  on  the  forms  covering  the 

battle-fields  gazing ; 
As  she  call'd  to  her  earth  with  mournful  voice  while  she 

stalk' d : 
Absorb  them  well,  O  my  earth,  she  cried  —  I  charge  you, 

lose  not  my  sons  !  lose  not  an  atom  ; 
And  you  streams,  absorb  them  well,  taking  their  dear 

blood ; 
And   you   local   spots,   and  you  airs  that  swim  above 

lightly, 
And  all  you  essences  of  soil  and  growth  —  and  you,  O 

my  rivers'  depths ; 
And  you  mountain  sides  —  and  the  woods  where  my 

dear  children's  blood,  trickling,  redden' d  ; 
And  you  trees,  down  in  your  roots,  to  bequeath  to  all 

future  trees, 

My  dead  absorb  —  my  young  men's  beautiful  bodies  ab- 
sorb—  and    their    precious,    precious,    precious 

blood ; 
Which  holding  in  trust  for  me,  faithfully  back  again  give 

me,  many  a  year  hence, 

In  unseen  essence  and  odor  of  surface  and  grass,  centu- 
ries hence ; 
In  blowing  airs  from  the  fields,  back  again  give  me  my 

darlings  —  give  my  immortal  heroes ; 
Exhale  me    them   centuries  hence  —  breathe   me  their 

breath  —  let  not  an  atom  be  lost ; 
O  years  and  graves !  O  air  and  soil  \  O  my  dead,  an 

aroma  sweet  1 
Exhale  them   perennial,    sweet  death,  years,  centuries 

hence. 


72  DRUM-TAPS. 


NOT  YOUTH  PERTAINS  TO  ME. 

NOT  youth  pertains  to  me, 

Nor  delicatesse  —  I  cannot  beguile  the  time  with  talk  ; 
Awkward  in  the  parlor,  neither  a  dancer  nor  elegant ; 
In  the  learn' d  coterie  sitting  constrained  and  still  —  for 

learning  inures  not  to  me ; 
Beauty,    knowledge,    fortune,    inure   not  to   me  —  yet 

there  are  two  things  inure  to  me ; 
I  have   nourish' d  the  wounded,   and   sooth' d   many   a 

dying  soldier ; 

And  at  intervals  I  have  strung  together  a  few  songs, 
Fit  for  war,  and  the  life  of  the  camp. 


FINIS. 


SEQUEL    TO   DRUM-TAPS. 

(SINCE   THE   PRECEDING   CAME   FROM   THE   PRKS3.) 


AND    OTHER    PIECES. 


WASHINGTON. 

1865-6. 


CONTENTS. 


When  Lilacs  last  in  the  door-yard  bloom'd 3 

Race  of  Veterans ." 12 

0  Captain!   my  Captain  ! 13 

Spirit  whose  work  is  done 14 

Chanting  the  Square  Deific 1"> 

1  heard  you,  solemn  sweet  pipes  of  the  Organ 17 

Not  my  Enemies  ever  invade  me IT 

0  mef  0  life! 18 

Ah  poverties,  wincings,  and  sulky  retreats 18 

As  I  lay  with  my  head  in  your  lap,  Camerado 19 

This  day,  0  Soul 19 

In  clouds  descending,  in  midnight  sleep 20 

An  Army  on  the  march 20 

Dirge  for  Two  Veterans 21 

Plow  solemn,  as  one  by  one 22 

Lo  !  Victress  on  the  Peaks! 23. 

Reconciliation 23 

To  the  leaven'd  Soil  thev  trod 24 


GIBSOX  BBDTHKKS,  PRINTERS. 


LILACS  LAST  m  THE 
DOOK-YAED  BLOOM'D. 


1 

i    WHEN  lilacs  last  in  the  door-yard  bloom'd, 
And  the  great  star  early  droop'd  in  the  western  sky  in  the 
night, 

1  mourn'd  ...  and    yet  shall  mourn   with    ever-returning 

spring. 

2  0  ever-returning  spring  !  trinity  sure  to  me  you  bring ; 
Lilac  blooming  perennial,  and  drooping  star  in  the  west, 
And  thought  of  him  I  love. 


3    0  powerful,  western,  fallen  star! 

0  shades  of  night !  0  moody,  tearful  night ! 

0  great  star  disappear' d  !  0  the  black  murk  that  hides  the 

star  ! 
0  cruel  hands  that  hold  me  powerless  !  0  helpless  soul  of 

me  ! 
0  harsh  surrounding  cloud  that  will  not  free  my  soul ! 


•»    In  the  door-yard  fronting  an  old  farm-house,  near  the 

white-wash' d  palings, 
Stands  the  lilac  bush,  tall-growing,  with  heart-shaped  leaves 

of  rich  green, 
With  many  a  pointed  blossom,  rising,   delicate,   with  the 

perfume  strong  I  love, 


4  SEQUEL  TO  DRUM-TAPS. 

With  every  leaf  a  miracle and  from  this  bush  in  the 

door-yard, 
"With  its  delicate-color 'd  blossoms,  and  heart-shaped  leaves 

of  rich  green,, 
A  sprig,  with  its  flower,  I  break. 


5    In  the  swamp,  in  secluded  recesses, 

A  shy  and  hidden  bird  is  warbling  a  song. 

G    Solitary,  the  thrush, 

The  hermit,  withdrawn  to  himself,  avoiding  the  settlements., 

Sings  by  himself  a  song. 

-    Song  of  the  bleeding  throat ! 

Death's  outlet  song  of  life — (for  well,  dear  brother,  I  know, 

If  thou  wast  not  gifted  to  sing,  thou  would'st  surely  die.) 


»    Over  the  breast  of  the  spring,  the  land,  amid  cities, 
Amid  lanes,  arid  through  old  woods,  (where   lately  the 

violets  peep'd  from  the  ground,  spotting  the  gray 

debris ;) 
Amid  the  grass  in  the  fields  each  side  of  the  lanes  —  passing 

the  endless  grass ; 
Passing  the   yellow-spear'd  wheat,  every  grain   from   its 

shroud  in  the  dark -brown  fields  uprising ; 
Passing  the  apple-tree  blows  of  white  and  pink   in  the 

orchards ; 

Carrying  a  corpse  to  where  it  shall  rest  in  the  grave, 
Night  and  day  journeys  a  coffin. 


9    Coffin  that  passes  through  lanes  and  streets, 

Through  day  and  night,  with  the  great  cloud  darkening  the 

land, 
With  the  pomp  of  the  inloop'd  flags,  with  the  cities  draped 

in  black, 


SEQUEL  TO  DRUM-TAPS.  5 

With  the  show  of  the  States  themselves,  as  of  crape-veil'd 

women,  standing, 
With  processions  long  and  winding,  and  the  flambeaus  of 

the  night, 
With  the  countless  torches  lit — with  the  silent  sea  of  faces, 

and  the  unbared  heads, 
With  the  waiting  depot,  the  arriving  coffin,  and  the  sombre 

faces, 
With  dirges  through  the  night,  with  the  thousand  voices 

rising  strong  and  solemn; 
With  all  the  mournful  voices  of  the  dirges,  pour'd  around 

the  coffin, 
The  dim-lit  churches  and  the  shuddering  organs — Where 

amid  these  you  journey, 

With  the  tolling,  tolling  bells'  perpetual  clang; 
Here  !  coffin  that  slowly  passes, 
I  give  you  my  sprig  of  lilac. 


10  (Nor  for  you,  for  one,  alone ; 
Blossoms  and  branches  green  to  coffins  all  I  bring : 
For  fresh  as  the  morning — thus  would  I  chant  a  song  for 
you,  0  sane  and  sacred  death. 

u    All  over  bouquets  of  roses, 

0  death  !  I  cover  you  over  with  roses  and  early  lilies  ; 

But  mostly  and  now  the  lilac  that  blooms  the  first, 

Copious,  I  break,  I  break  the  sprigs  from  the  bushes : 

With  loaded  arms  I  come,  pouring  for  you, 

For  you  and  the  coffins  all  of  you,  0  death.) 

8 

12  0  western  orb,  sailing  the  heaven ! 

Now  I  know  what  you  must  have  meant,  as  a  month  since 

we  walk'd, 

As  we  walk'd  up  and  down  in  the  dark  blue  so  mystic, 
As  we  walk'd  in  silence  the  transparent  shadowy  night, 


6  SEQUEL  TO  DRUM-TAPS. 

As  I  saw  you  had  something  to  tell,  as  you  bent  to  me  night 

after  night, 
As  you  droop' d  from  the  sky  low  down,  as  if  to  my  side, 

(while  the  other  stars  all  look'd  on  ;) 
As  we  wander'd  together  the  solemn  night,  (for  something 

I  know  not  what,  kept  me  from  sleep ;) 
As  the  night  advanced,  and  I  saw  on  the  rim  of  the  west, 

ere  you  went,  how  full  you  were  of  woe ; 
As  I  stood  on  the  rising  ground  in  the  breeze,,  in  the  cool 

transparent  night, 

As  I  watch'd  where  you  pass'd  and  was  lost  in  the  nether- 
ward  black  of  the  night, 
As  my  soul,  in  its  trouble,  dissatisfied,  sank,  as  where  you,. 

sad  orb, 
Concluded,  dropt  in  the  night,  and  was  gone. 

9 

13    Sing  on,  there  in  the  swamp  ! 

0  singer  bashful  and  tender  !  I  hear  your  notes — I  hear 

your  call ; 

1  hear — I  come  presently — I  understand  you  ; 

But  a  moment  I  linger — for  the  lustrous  star  has  detain'd 

me ; 
The  star,  my  comrade,  departing,  holds  and  detains  me. 

10 

"    0  how   shall  I  warble  myself  for  the  dead  one  there  I 

loved? 
And  how  shall  I  deck  my  song  for  the  large  sweet  soul  that 

has  gone  ? 
And  what  shall  my  perfume  be,  for  the  grave  of  him  I  love  ? 

15    Sea- winds,  blown  from  east  and  west, 

Blown  from  the  eastern  sea,  and  blown  from  the  western  sea, 

till  there  on  the  prairies  meeting  : 
These,  and  with  these,  and  the  breath  of  my  chant, 
I  perfume  the  grave  of  him  I  love. 


SEQUEL  TO  DRUM-TAPS.  7 

11 

16    0  what  shall  I  hang  on  the  chamber  walls  ? 

And  what  shall  the  pictures  be  that  I  hang  on  the  walls, 

To  adorn  the  burial-house  of  him  I  love  ? 

IT    Pictures  of  growing  spring,  and  farms,  and  homes, 
With  the  Fourth-month  eve  at  sundown,  and  the  gray-smoke 

lucid  and  bright, 
With  floods  of  the  yellow  gold  of  the  gorgeous,  indolent  , 

sinking  sun,  burning,  expanding  the  air  ; 
With  the  fresh  sweet  herbage  under  foot,  and  the  pale  green 

leaves  of  the  trees  prolific  ; 
In  the  distance  the  flowing  glaze,  the  breast  of  the  river, 

with  a  wind-dapple  here  and  there  ; 
With  ranging  hills  on  the  banks,  with  many  a  line  against 

the  sky,  and  shadows; 
And  the  city  at  hand,  with  dwellings  so  dense,  and  stacks 

of  chimneys, 
And   all   the   scenes  of  life,  and   the  workshops,   and  the 

workmen  homeward  returning. 


is    Lo  !  body  and  soul  !  this  land  ! 

Mighty  Manhattan,  with  spires,  and  the  sparkling  and  hur- 

rying tides,  and  the  ships  ; 
The  varied  and  ample  land  —  the  South  and  the  North  in 

the  light  —  Ohio's  shores,  and  flashing  Missouri, 
And  ever  the  far-spreading  prairies,,  cover'd  with  grass  and 

corn. 

10    Lo  !  the  most  excellent  sun,  so  calm  and  haughty; 

The  violet  and  purple  morn,  with  just-felt  breezes: 

The  gentle,  soft-born,  measureless  light; 

The  miracle,  spreading,  bathing  all  —  the  fulfill'd  noon; 

The   coming    eve,  delicious  —  the   welcome    night,  and  the 

stars  , 
Over  my  cities  shining  all,  enveloping  man  and  land. 


8  SEQUEL  TO  DRUM-TAPS. 

13 

20  Sing  on  !  sing  on,  you  gray -brown  bird! 

Sing  from  the  swamps,  the  recesses — pour  your  chant  from 

the  bushes ; 
Limitless  out  of  the  dusk,  out  of  the  cedars  and  pines. 

21  Sing  on,  dearest  brother — warble  your  reedy  song; 
Loud  human  song,  with  voice  of  uttermost  woe. 

22  0  liquid,  and  free,  and  tender! 

0  wild  and  loose  to  my  soul !  0  wondrous  singer ! 

You  only  I  hear yet  the  star  holds  me,  (but  will  soon 

depart ;) 
Yet  the  lilac,  with  mastering  odor,  holds  me. 


14 

23    Now  while  I  sat  in  the  day,  and  look'd  forth, 

In    the  close  of  the  day,  with  its  light,  and  the  fields  of 

spring,  and  the  farmer  preparing  his  crops, 
In  the  large  unconscious  scenery  of  my  land,  with  its  lakes 

and  forests, 
In  the  heavenly  aerial  beauty,  (after  the  perturb' d  winds, 

and  the  storms ;) 
Under  the  arching  heavens  of  the  afternoon  swift  passing, 

and  the  voices  of  children  and  women, 
The  many-moving  sea-tides, — and  I  saw  the  ships  how  they 

saiFd, 
And  the  summer  approaching  with  richness,  and  the  fields 

all  busy  with  labor, 
And  the  infinite  separate  houses,  how  they  all  went  on,  each 

with  its  meals  and  minutia  of  daily  usages  ; 
And  the  streets,  how  their  throbbings  throbb'd,  and  the  cities 

pent, — lo  !  then  and  there, 
Falling  among  them  all,  and  upon  them  alL  enveloping  me 

with  the  rest, 

Appear'd  the  cloud,  appear'd  the  long  black  trail; 
And  I  knew  Death,  its  thought,  and  the  sacred  knowledge 

of  death. 


SEQUEL  TO  DRUM-TAPS.  9 

15 

2*    Then^with  the  knowledge  of  death  as  walking  one  side  of 

me, 

And  the  thought  of  death  close-walking  the  other  side  of  me, 
And  I  in  the  middle,  as  with  companions,  and  as  holding  the 

hands  of  companions, 

I  fled  forth  to  the  hiding  receiving  night,  that  talks  not,' 
Down  to  the  shores  of  the  water,  the  path  by  the  swamp  in 

the  dimness, 
To  the  solemn  shadowy  cedars,  and  ghostly  pines  so  still. 

25  And  the  singer  so  shy  to  the  rest  receiv'd  me;- 

The  gray -brown  bird  I  know,  receiv'd  us  comrades  three ; 
And  he  sang  whatseenvd  the  song  of  death,  and  a  verse  for 
him  I  love. 

26  From  deep  secluded  recesses, 

From  the  fragrant  cedars,  and  the  ghostly  pines  so  still, 
Came  the  singing  of  the  bird. 

27  And  the  charm  of  the  singing  rapt  me, 

As  I  held,  as  if  by  their  hands,  my  comrades  in  the  night; 
And  the  voice  of  my  spirit  tallied  the  song  of  the  bird. 

16 

28  Come,  lovely  and  soothing  Death, 

Undulate  round  the  world,  serenely  arriving,  arriving, 
In  the  day,  in  the  night,  to  all,  to  each, 
Sooner  or  later,  delicate  Death. 

29  Prais'd  be  the  fathomless  universe, 

For  life  and  joy,  and  for  objects  and  knowledge  curious  ; 
And  for  love,  sweet  love — But  praise !  0  praise  and  praise, 
For  the  sure-enwinding  arms  of  cool-enfolding  Death. 

30  Dark  Mother,  always  gliding  near,  with  soft  feet, 
Have  none  chanted  for  thee  a  chant  of  fullest  welcome  ? 


10  SEQUEL  TO  DRUM-TAPS. 

Then  I  chant  it  for  thee — I  glorify  thee  above  all ; 
I  bring  thee  a  song  that  when  thou  must  indeed  come,  come 
unfalteringly. 

31  Approach,  encompassing  Death — strong  Deliveress! 
When  it  is  so — when  thou  hast  taken  them,  I  joyously  sing 

the  dead, 

Lost  in  the  loving,  floating  ocean  of  thee, 
Laved  in  the  flood  of  thy  bliss,  0  Death. 

32  From  me  to  thee  glad  serenades, 

Dances  for  thee  I  propose,  saluting  thee — adornments  and 

feastings  for  thee ; 
And  the  sights  of  the  open  landscape,  and  the  high-spread 

sky,  are  fitting, 
And  life  and  the  fields,  and  the  huge  and  thoughtful  night. 

33  The  night,  in  silence,  under  many  a  star; 

The  ocean  shore,  and  the  husky  whispering  wave,  whose 

voice  I  know ; 

And  the  soul  turning  to  thee,  0  vast  and  well-veil' d  Death. 
And  the  body  gratefully  nestling  close  to  thee. 

34  Over  the  tree-tops  I  float  thee  a  song ! 

Over  the  rising  and  sinking  waves — over  the  myriad  fields, 

and  the  prairies  wide ; 
Over  the  dense-pack' d  cities  all,  and  the  teeming  wharves 

and  ways, 
I  float  this  carol  with  joy,  with  joy  to  thee,  0  Death  ! 

17 

35  To  the  tally  of  my  soul, 

Loud  and  strong  kept  up  the  gray-brown  bird, 

With  pure,  deliberate  notes,  spreading,  filling  the  night. 

SG    Loud  in  the  pines  and  cedars  dim, 

Clear  in  the  freshness  moist,  and  the  swamp-perfume ; 

And  I  with  my  comrades  there  in  the  night. 


SEQUEL  TO  DRUM-TAPS.  11 

37    While  my  sight  that  was  bound  in  my  eyes  unclosed, 
As  to  long  panoramas  of  visions. 

18 

33    I  saw  the  vision  of  armies; 

And  I  saw,  as  in  noiseless  dreams,  hundreds  of  battle-flags ; 

Borne  through  the  smoke  of  the  battles,  and  pierc'd  with 

missiles,  I  saw  them, 
And  carried  hither  and  yon  through  the  smoke,  and  torn 

and  bloody; 
And  at  last  but  a  few  shreds  of  the  flags  left  on  the  staffs, 

(and  all  in  silence,) 
And  the  staffs  all  splinter' d  and  broken. 

so    I  saw  battle-corpses,  myriads  of  them, 
And  the  white  skeletons  of  young  men — I  saw  them  ; 
I  saw  the  debris  and  debris  of  all  dead  soldiers ; 
But  I  saw  they  were  not  as  was  thought ; 
They  themselves  were  fully  at  rest — they  suffer'd  not; 
The  living  remain'd  and  suffer'd — the  mother  suffer'd, 
And  the  wife  and  the  child,  and  the  musing;  comrade  suf- 
fer'd, 
And  the  armies  that  remain'd  suffer'd. 

19 

-10    Passing  the  visions,  passing  the  night; 

Passing,  unloosing  the  hold  of  my  comrades'  hands; 

Passing  the  song  of  the  hermit  bird,  and  the  tallying  song 
of  my  soul, 

Victorious  song,  death's  outlet  song,  (yet  varying,  ever- 
altering  song, 

As  low  and  wailing,  yet  clear  the  notes,  rising  and  falling, 
flooding  the  night, 

Sadly  sinking  and  fainting,  as  warning  and  warning,  and 
yet  again  bursting  with  joy,) 

Covering  the  earth,  and  filling  the  spread  of  the  heaven, 

As  that  powerful  psalm  in  the  night  T  heard  from  recesses. 


12  SEQUEL  TO   DRUM-TAPS. 

20 

41  Must  I  leave  thee,  lilac  with  heart-shaped  leaves  ? 
Must  I  leave  thee  there  in  the  door-yard,  blooming,  return- 
ing with  spring  ? 

42  Must  I  pass  from  my  song  for  thee  ; 

From  my  gaze  on  thee  in  the  west,  fronting  the  west,  com- 
muning with  thee, 
O  comrade  lustrous,  with  silver  face  in  the  night  ? 

21 

«    Yet  each  I  keep,  and  all ; 

The  song,  the  wondrous  chant  of  the  gray-brown  bird,  I  keep, 
And  the  tallying  chant,  the  echo  arous'd  in  my  soul,  I  keep, 
With  the  lustrous  and  drooping  star,  with  the  countenance 

full  of  woe ; 

With  the  lilac  tall,  and  its  blossoms  of  mastering  odor; 
Comrades  mine,  and  I  in  the  midst,  and  their  memory  ever 

I  keep — for  the  dead  I  loved  so  well ; 
For  the  sweetest,  wisest  soul  of  all  my  days  and  lands... 

and  this  for  his  dear  sake ; 

Lilac  and  star  and  bird,  twined  with  the  chant  of  my  soul, 
With  the  holders  holding  my  hand,  nearing  the  call  of  the 

bird, 
There  in  the  fragrant  pines,  and  the  cedars,  dusk  and  dim. 


RACE    OF    VETERANS. 

RACE  of  veterans  ! 

Race  of  the  soil,  ready  for  conflict !  race  of  the  conquering 

inarch ! 

(No  more  credulity's  race,  abiding-temper'd  race;) 
Race  owning  no  law  but  the  law  of  itself; 
Race  of  passion  and  the  storm. 


SEQUEL  TO  DRUM-TAPS.  13 


0    CAPTAIN!     MY    CAPTAIN! 


O  CAPTAIN  !  my  captain  !  our  fearful  trip  is  done  ; 

flic  ship  has  weather' d  every;  rack,  the  prize  we  sought  is 

won  ; 

The  port  is  near,  the  bells  I  hear,  the  people  all  exulting, 
While  follow  eyes  the  steady  keel,  the  vessel  grim  and  daring : 
But  0  heart !  heart !  heart ! 

Leave  you  not  the  little  spot, 

Where  on  the  deck  my  captain  lies, 
Fallen  cold  and  dead. 

2 

O  captain  !  my  captain  !  rise  up  and  hear  the  bells; 
llise  up — for  you  the  flag  is  flung — for  you  the  bugle  trills  ; 
For  you  bouquets  and  ribbon'd  wreaths — for  you  the  shores 

a-crowding ; 

For  you  they  call,   the  swaying   mass,  their   eager   faces 
turning ; 
0  captain  !  dear  father  ! 

This  arm  I  push  beneath  you  ; 

It  is  some  dream  that  on  the  deck, 
You've  fallen  cold  and  dead. 


My  captain  does  not  answer,  his  lips  are  pale  and  still ; 
My  father  does  not  feel  my  arm,  he  has  no  pulse  nor  will : 
But  the  ship,  the  ship  is  anchor'd  safe,  its  voyage  closed  and 

done ; 

From  fearful  trip,  the  victor  ship,  comes  in  with  object  won  : 
Exult,  0  shores,  and  ring,  0  bells  ! 
But  I,  with  silent  tread, 

Walk  the  spot  my  captain  lies, 
Fallen  cold  and  dead. 


14  SEQUEL  TO  DRUM-TAPS. 

SPIRIT   WHOSE   WORK   is   DONE 


SPIRIT  whose  work  is  done  !  spirit  of  dreadful  hours  I" 

Ere,  departing,  fade  from  my  eyes  your  forests  of  bayonets ; 

Spirit  of  gloomiest  fears  and  doubts,  (yet  onward  ever  unfal- 
tering pressing ;) 

Spirit  of  many  a  solemn  day,  and  many  a  savage  scene  ! 
Electric  spirit  I 

That  with  muttering  voice,  through  the  years  now  closed, 
like  a  tireless  phantom  flitted, 

Housing  the  land  with  breath  of  flame,  while  you  beat  and 
beat  the  drum  ; 

— Now,  as  the  sound  of  the  drum,  hollow  and  harsh  to  the 
last,  reverberates  round  me  ; 

As  your  ranks,  your  immortal  ranks,  return,  return  from 
the  battles  ; 

While  the  muskets  of  the  young  men  yet  lean  over  their 
shoulders  ; 

While  I  look  on  the  bayonets  bristling  over  their  shoulders  : 

While  those  slanted  bayonets,  whole  forests  of  them,  ap- 
pearing in  the  distance,  approach  and  pass  on.  re- 
turning homeward, 

Moving  with  steady  motion,  swaying  to  and  fro,  to  the  right 
and  left, 

Evenly,  lightly  rising  and  falling,  as  the  steps  keep  time  : 

— Spirit  of  hours  I  knew,  all  hectic  red  one  day,  but  pale  as 
death  next  day ; 

Touch  my  mouth,  ere  you  depart — press  my  lips  close  ! 

Leave  me  your  pulses  of  rage  I  bequeath  them  to  me  !  fill 
me  with  currents  convulsive  ! 

Let  them  scorch  and  blister  out  of  my  chants,  when  you  are 
gone; 

Let  them  identify  you  to  the  future  in  these  songs. 


SEQUEL  TO   DRUM-TAPS.  15 

CHANTING    THE    SQUARE   DEIFIC. 


CHANTING  the  square  dcific,  out  of  the  One  advancing,  out 

of  the  sides  ; 

Out  of  the  old  and  new — out  of  the  square  entirely  divine, 
Solid,  four-sided,  (all  the  sides  needed)  ...  from  this  side 

JEHOVAH  am  I, 

Old  Brahin  I,  and  I  Saturnius  am  ; 
Not  Time  affects  me — I  am  Time,  modern  as  any ; 
Unpersuadable,  relentless,  executing  righteous  judgments; 
As  the  Earth,  the  Father,  the  brown  old  Kronos,  with  laws, 
Aged  beyond  computation — yet  ever  new — ever  with  those 

mighty  laws  rolling, 
Relentless,  I  forgive  no  man — whoever  sins,  dies — I  will 

have  that  man's  life  ; 

Therefore  let  none  expect  mercy — Have  the  seasons,  gravi- 
tation, the  appointed  days,  mercy  ? — No  more  have  I ; 
But  as  the  seasons,  and  gravitation — and  as  all  the  appointed 

days,  that  forgive  not, 
I  dispense  from  this  side  judgments  inexorable,  without  the 

least  remorse. 

2 

Consolator  most  mild,  the  promis'd  one  advancing, 

With  gentle  hand  extended,  the  mightier  God  am  I, 

Foretold  by  prophets  and  poets,  in  their  most  rapt  proph- 
ecies and  poems ; 

From  this  side,  lo!  the  Lord  CHRIST  gazes — lo!  Hermes  I — 
lo !  mine  is  Hercules'  face  ; 

All  sorrow,  labor,  suffering,  I,  tallying  it,  absorb  in  myself; 

Many  times  have  I  been  rejected,  taunted,  put  in  prison, 
and  crucified — and  many  times  shall  be  again  ; 

All  the  world  have  I  given  up  for  my  dear  brothers'  and 
sisters'  sake — for  the  soul's  sake  ; 


16  SEQUEL  TO  DRUM-TAPS. 

Wending   my  way  through  the    homes  of  men,   rich   or 

poor,  with  the  kiss  of  affection  ; 
For  I  am  affection — I  am  the  cheer-bringing  God.  with  hope, 

and  all-enclosing  Charity ; 
(Conqueror  yet — for  before  me  all  the  armies  and  soldiers 

of  the  earth  shall  yet  bow — and  all  the  weapons  of 

war  become  impotent :) 
With  indulgent  words,  as  to  children — with  fresh  and  sane 

words,  mine  only; 

Young  and  strong  I  pass,  knowing  well  I  am  destin'd  my- 
self to  an  early  death  : 
But  my  Charity  has  no  death — my  Wisdom  dies  not,  neither 

early  nor  late, 

And  my  sweet  Love,  bequeath'd  here  and  elsewhere,  never 
'    dies. 

3 

Aloof,  dissatisfied,  plotting  revolt. 

Comrade  of  criminals,  brother  of  slaves, 

Crafty,  despised,  a  drudge,  ignorant, 

With  sudra  face  and  worn  brow — black,  but  in  the  depths 

of  my  heart,  proud  as  any  ; 
Lifted,  now  and  always,  against  whoever,  scorning,  assumes 

to  rule  me ; 
Morose,  full  of  guile,  full  of  reminiscences,  brooding,  with 

many  wiles, 
(Though  it  was  thought  I  was  baffled  and  dispell'd,  and 

my  wiles  done — but  that  will  never  be;) 
Defiant,  I,  SATAN,  still  live — still  utter  words — in  new  lands 

duly  appearing,  (and  old  ones  also;) 
Permanent  here,  from  my  side,  warlike,  equal  with   any, 

real  as  any, 
Nor  time,  nor  change,  shall  ever  change  me  or  my  words. 


Santa  SPIRITA,  breather,  life, 

Beyond  the  light,  lighter  than  light, 

Beyond  the  flames  of  hell — joyous,  leaping  easily  above  hell ; 


SEQUEL  TO  DRUM-TAPS.  IT 

Beyond  Paradise — perfumed  solely  with  mine  own  perfume  ; 
Including  all  life    on    earth — touching,  including    God — 

including  Saviour  and  Satan  ; 
Ethereal,  pervading  all,  (for  without  me,  what  were  all? 

what  were  God  ?) 
Essence  of  forms — life  of  the  real  identities,  permanent, 

positive,  (namely  the  unseen,) 
Life  of  the  great  round  world,  the  sun  and  stars,  and  of 

man — I,  the  general  Soul, 

Here  the  square  finishing,  the  solid,  I  the  most  solid, 
Breathe  my  breath  also  through  these  little  songs. 


I  HEARD  YOU,  SOLEMN-SWEET  PlPES  OF  THE  ORGAN. 

I   HEARD  you,   solemn-sweet  pipes  of  the   organ,   as  last 

Sunday  morn  I  pass'd  the  church  ; 
Winds  of  autumn ! — as  I  walk'd   the  woods  at  dusk,   I 

heard    your    long-stretch'd    sighs,    up    above,    so 

mournful ; 
I  heard  the  perfect  Italian  tenor,  singing  at  the  opera — I 

heard  the  soprano  in  the  midst  of  the  quartet  singing  ; 
...  Heart  of  my  love! — you  too  I  heard,  murmuring  low, 

through  one  of  the  wrists  around  my  head ; 
Heard  the  pulse   of  you.  when  all  was  still,  ringing  little 

bells  last  night  under  my  ear. 


NOT   MY   ENEMIES   EVER  INVADE   ME. 

NOT  my  enemies  ever  invade  me — no  harm  to  my  pride  from 

them  I  fear ; 

But  the  lovers  I  recklessly  love — lo !  how  they  master  me ! 
Lo  !  me,  ever  open  and  helpless,  bereft  of  my  strength  ! 
Utterly  abject,  grovelling  on  the  ground  before  them. 


18  SEQUEL  TO  DRUM-TAPS. 

0    ME!    0    LIFE! 

O  ME  !  0  life!  ...  of  the  questions  of  these  recurring  ; 

Of  the  endless  trains  of  the  faithless — of  cities  fill'd  with 
the  foolish ; 

Of  myself  forever  reproaching  myself,  (for  who  more  fool- 
ish than  I,  and  who  more  faithless  ?) 

Of  eyes  that  vainly  crave  the  light — of  the  objects  mean — of 
the  struggle  ever  renew' d ; 

Of  the  poor  results  of  all — of  the  plodding  and  sordid  crowds 
I  see  around  me  ; 

Of  the  empty  and  useless  years  of  the  rest — with  the  rest  me 
intertwined ; 

The  question,  0  me  !  so  sad,  recurring — What  good  amid 
these,  0  me,  0  life? 

Answer, 

That  you  are  here — that  life  exists,  and  identity  ; 
That  the  powerful  play  goes  on,   and  you  will  contribute  a 
verse. 


AH  POVERTIES,  WINCIXGS,  AND  SULKY  RETREATS. 

An  poverties,  wincings,  and  sulky  retreats! 

Ah  you  foes  that  in  conflict  have  overcome  me ! 

(For  what  is  my  life,  or  any  man's  life,  but  a  conflict  witli 
foes — the  old,  the  incessant  war?) 

You  degradations — you  tussle  with  passions  and  appetites ; 

You  smarts  from  dissatisfied  friendships,  (ah  wounds,  the 
sharpest  of  all :) 

You  toil  of  painful  and  choked  articulations — you  mean- 
nesses ; 

You  shallow  tongue-talks  at  tables,  (my  tongue  the  shal- 
lowest of  any;) 

You  broken  resolutions,  you  racking  angers,  you  smother'd 
ennuis ; 

Ah,  think  not  you  finally  triumph — My  real  self  has  yet  to 
come  forth  ; 

It  shall  yet  march  forth  o'ermastering,till  all  lies  beneath  me ; 

It  shall  yet  stand  up  the  soldier  of  unquestioned  victory. 


SEQUEL  TO  DRUM-TAPS.  19 

AS  I  LAY  WITH  MY  HEAD  IN  YOUR  LAP, 
CAMERADO. 

As  I  lay  with  my  head  in  your  lap,  caruerado, 

The  confession  I  made  I  resume — what  I  said  to  you  and 

the  open  air  I  resume : 
I  know  I  am  restless,  and  make  others  so; 
I  know  my  words  are  weapons,  full  of  danger,  full  of  death  ; 
(Indeed  I  am  myself  the  real  soldier  ; 
It  is  not  he,  there,  with  his  bayonet,  and  not  the  red-striped 

artilleryman ;) 
For  I  confront  peace,  security,  and  all  the  settled  laws,  to 

unsettle  them ; 
I  am  more  resolute  because  all  have  denied  me,  than  I  could 

ever  have  been  had  all  accepted  me ; 

I  heed  not,  and  have  never  heeded,  either  experience,  cau- 
tions, majorities,  nor  ridicule ; 
And  the*  threat  of  what  is  call'd  hell  is  little  or  nothing  to 

me ; 
And  the  lure  of  what  is  call'd  heaven  is  little  or  nothing 

to  me ; 
. . .  Dear  camerado  !    I  confess  I  have  urged  you  onward 

with  me,  and  still  urge  you,  without  the  least  idea 

what  is  our  destination, 
Or  whether  we  shall  be  victorious,  or  utterly  quell'd  and 

defeated. 


THIS   DAY,    0   SOUL. 

THIS  day,  0  soul,  I  give  you  a  wondrous  mirror; 

Long  in  the  dark,  in  tarnish  and  cloud  it  lay — But  the  cloud 

has  pass'd,  and  the  tarnish  gone; 

...  Behold,  0  soul!  it  is  now  a  clean  and  bright  mirror, 
Faithfully  showing  you  all  the  things  of  the  world. 


20  SEQUEL  TO  DRUM-TAPS. 

IN  CLOUDS  DESCENDING,  IN  MIDNIGHT  SLEEP. 

i 

IN  clouds  descending,  in  midnight  sleep,  of  many  a  face  of 
anguish, 

Of  the  look  at  first  of  the  mortally  wounded — of  that  inde- 
scribable look ; 

Of  the  dead  on  their  backs,  with  arms  extended  wide, 
I  dream,  T  dream,  I  dream. 

2 

Of  scenes  of  nature,  the  fields  and  the  mountains ; 
Of  the  skies,  so  beauteous  after  the  storm — and  at  night  the 

moon  so  unearthly  bright, 
Shining  sweetly,  shining  down,  where  we  dig  the  trenches 

and  gather  the  heaps, 
I  dream,  I  dream,  I  dream. 

3 
Long  have  they  pass'd,  long  lapsed — faces  and  trenches  and 

fields ; 

Long  through  the  carnage  I  moved  with  a  callous  compos- 
ure— or  away  from  the  fallen, 

Onward  I  sped  at  the  time — But  now  of  their  forms  at  night, 
I  dream,  I  dream,  I  dream. 


AN   ARMY   ON  THE   MARCH. 

WITH  its  cloud  of  skirmishers  in  advance, 

With  now  the  sound  of  a  single  shot,  snapping  like  a  whip. 

and  now  an  irregular  volley, 
The  swarming  ranks  press  on  and  on,  the  dense  brigades 

press  on ; 

Glittering  dimly,  toiling  under  the  sun,  the  dust-cover' d  men , 
In  columns  rise  and  fall  to  the  undulations  of  the  ground, 
With  artillery  interspers'd — the  wheels  rumble,  the  horses 

sweat, 
As  the  army  resistless  advances. 


SEQUEL  TO  DRUM-TAPS.  21 

DIRGE   FOR   TWO   VETERANS. 

1 

THE  last  sunbeam 

Lightly  falls  from  the  finish'd  Sabbath, 
On  the  pavement  here — and  there  beyond,  it  is  looking, 

Down  a  new-made  double  grave. 


Lo !  the  moon  ascending  ! 
Up  from  the  east,  the  silvery  round  moon; 
Beautiful  over  the  house-tops,  ghastly,  phantom  moon ; 

Immense  and  silent  moon. 

3 

I  see  a  sad  procession, 

And  I  hear  the  sound  of  coming  full-key 'd  bugles  ; 
All  the  channels  of  the  city  streets  they  're  flooding, 

As  with  voices  and  with  tears. 


I  hear  the  great  drums  pounding, 
And  the  small  drums  steady  whirring  ; 
And  every  blow  of  the  great  convulsive  drums, 

Strikes  me  through  and  through. 


For  the  son  is  brought  with  the  father  ; 
(In  the  foremost  ranks  of  the  fierce  assault  they  fell ; 
Two  veterans,  son  and  father,  dropt  together, 

And  the  double  grave  awaits  them.) 


Now  nearer  blow  the  bugles, 
And  the  drums  strike  more  convulsive ; 
And  the  day-light  o'er  the  pavement  quite  has  faded. 

And  the  strong  dead-march  enwraps  me. 


22  SEQUEL  TO  DRUM-TAPS. 


In  the  eastern  sky  up-buoying, 
The  sorrowful  vast  phantom  moves  illumin'd  ; 
('Tis  some  mother's  large,  transparent  face, 

In  heaven  brighter  growing.) 

8 
O  strong  dead-march,  you  please  me  ! 

0  moon  immense,  with  your  silvery  face  you  soothe  me  ! 

O  my  soldiers  twain !  0  my  veterans,  passing  to  burial! 
What  I  have  I  also  give  you. 

9 

The  moon  gives  you  light, 
And  the  bugles  and  the  drums  give  you  music ; 
And  my  heart,  O  my  soldiers,  my  veterans, 

My  heart  gives  you  love. 


HOW  SOLEMN,  AS  ONE  BY  ONE. 

How  solemn,  as  one  by  one, 

As  the  ranks  returning,  all  worn  and  sweaty — as  the  men 

file  by  where  I  stand  ; 
As  the  faces,  the  masks  appear — as  I  glance  at  the  faces, 

studying  the  masks ;  • 
(As  I  glance  upward  out  of  this  page,  studying  you,  dear 

friend,  whoever  you  are  ;) 
How  solemn  the  thought  of  my  whispering  soul,  to  each  in 

the  ranks,  and  to  you ; 

I  see  behind  each  mask,  that  wonder,  a  kindred  soul : 
0  the  bullet  could  never  kill   what  you  really  are,  dear 

friend, 

Nor  the  bayonet  stab  what  you  really  pre  : 
...  The  soul!  yourself  I  see,  great  as  any,  good  as  the  best, 
Waiting  secure  and  content,  which  the  bullet  could  never 

kill, 
Nor  the  bayonet  stab,  0  friend  ! 


SEQUEL  TO  DRUM-TAPS.  23 


LO!    VICTRESS    ON    THE    PEAKS! 

ITo  !  Victress  on  the  peaks  ! 

Where  thou  standest,  with  mighty  brow,  regarding  the 
world, 

(The  world,  0  Libertad,  that  vainly  conspired  against  thee ;) 

Out  of  its  countless,  beleaguering  toils,  after  thwarting 
them  all ; 

Where  thou,  dominant,  with  the  dazzling  sun  around  thee, 

Towerest  now  unharm'd,  in  immortal  soundness  and  bloom — 
lo  !  in  this  hour  supreme, 

No  poem  proud  I,  chanting,  bring  to  thee — nor  mastery's 
rapturous  verse ; 

But  a  little  book,  containing  night's  darkness,  and  blood- 
dripping  wounds, 

And  psalms  of  the  dead. 


RECONCILIATION. 

WORD  over  all,  beautiful  as  the  sky  I 

Beautiful  that  war,  and  all  its  deeds  of  carnage,  must  in 

time  be  utterly  lost ; 
That  the  hands  of  the  sisters  Death  and  Night,  incessantly 

softly  wash  again,  and  ever  again,  this  soil'd  world  : 
...  For  my  enemy  is  dead — a  man  divine  as  myself  is  dead  ; 
I  look  where  he  lies,  white-faced  and  still,  in  the  coffin — I 

draw  near  ; 
I  bend  down  and  touch  lightly  with  my  lips  the  white  face 

in  the  coffin. 


24  SEQUEL  TO  DRUM-TAPS. 


TO   THE  LEAYEN'D   SOIL   THEY   TROD. 

To  the  leaven'd  soil  they  trod,  calling,  I  sing,  for  the  last: 

(Not  cities,  nor  man  alone,  nor  war,  nor  the  dead, 

But  forth  from  iny  tent  emerging  for  good — loosing,  unty- 
ing the  tent-ropes;) 

In  the  freshness,  the  forenoon  air,  in  the  far-stretching  cir- 
cuits and  vistas,  again  to  peace  restored, 

To  the  fiery  fields  emanative,  and  the  endless  vistas  beyond — 
to  the  south  and  the  north ; 

To  the  leaven'd  soil  of  the  general  western  world,  to  attest 
my  songs, 

(To  the  average  earth,  the  wordless  earth,  witness  of  war 
and  peace,) 

To  the  Alleghanian  hills,  and  the  tireless  Mississippi, 

To  the  rocks  I,  calling,  sing,  and  all  the  trees  in  the  woods, 

To  the  plain  of  the  poems  of  heroes,  to  the  prairie  spreading 
wide, 

To  the  far-off  sea,  and  the  unseen  winds,  and  the  sane  im- 
palpable air  ; 

...  And  responding,  they  answer  all,  (but  not  in  words.) 

The  average  earth,  the  witness  of  war  and  peace,  acknowl- 
edges mutely ; 

The  prairie  draws  me  close,  as  the  father,  to  bosom  broad, 
the  son ; 

The  Northern  ice  and  rain,  that  began  me,  nourish  me 
.  to  the  end  ; 

But  the  hot  sun  of  the  South  is  to  ripen  my  songs. 


FINIS. 


